by Radclyffe
“Hi,” Diane said brightly when she answered the phone, “where are you? Really? You’re finally free?…No, stay there—we’re right around the corner. We’ll meet you and buy you a drink.” Diane dropped the phone back into her purse. “That was Emory. I told her we’d join her at her hotel.”
“Great,” Blair replied. “I think anything else we have to do, we can do by phone before we leave this weekend.”
Dana whispered a prayer of thanks. She’d actually had a pretty good time watching Blair and Diane shop. Just the same, the art of shopping was an acquired taste, and one she had yet to develop. When she had to attend a formal function, she went with basic black and white, figuring that would always work. Plus, black traveled well and tended not to show wrinkles even after hours, sometimes days, in a suitcase. She’d used the time between fittings and discussions to informally interview Blair Powell. A good reporter didn’t need to ask questions to learn about her subject. Mostly, she just had to listen. And watch. She’d discovered quite a bit in the last few hours, almost none of which would ever make it into her article.
Diane Bleeker, she soon ascertained, was a lot more than Blair’s close friend. Diane was a little bit in love with Blair Powell, and a whole lot protective, and the feelings seemed mutual in a completely appropriate manner. Both women were effortlessly affectionate with one another in a way that Dana had never experienced with any woman. She was envious and intrigued by their relationship and more than a little turned on. Maybe her arousal stemmed from the sheer force of being surrounded by such powerful pheromones. Or maybe she had just gone too long without the singular pleasure of losing herself in a woman. Whatever the cause, her nerves were pleasantly on edge.
They set off walking again and within a few minutes had reached the Plaza. Dana noticed a few heads turn as they made their way through the lobby toward the hotel lounge and bar. Perhaps, as Blair had said, if Blair were by herself on the street, she might go unnoticed, but three women flanked by an entourage in suits scanning the surroundings were pretty hard to miss. Blair kept her eyes straight ahead, and Dana could almost feel the shield she had erected around herself. She wondered about the cost of maintaining that kind of barrier, and thought perhaps it explained why Blair seemed so intimate with those few she let close.
“She’s over there,” Diane remarked, pointing to a seating area in the corner with several sofas and a low table.
Dana glanced idly to where Diane indicated and nearly stumbled as her gaze honed in on the woman seated there. Blair and Diane, both blond, both beautiful, exuded a sense of brilliance and heat, and being around them was much like basking in the noon sun. The woman who awaited them made Dana think of midnight on the deck of a sailboat when the sky was black velvet sprinkled with diamonds and the breeze promised forbidden pleasures. The petite woman’s shoulder-length ebony hair framed a face rendered unforgettable not by perfection but by the bold mouth and deep-set dark eyes. Her complexion held hints of the Mediterranean, adding to her undeniable allure.
“Emory,” Blair and Diane exclaimed simultaneously. The three hugged, and then Blair indicated Dana, who stood slightly outside the group, unable to take her eyes off the brunette. “Dana Barnett, Emory Constantine.”
“Nice to meet you,” Dana said, extending her hand. Dr. Emory Constantine’s chin barely came to Dana’s shoulder, and Dana had the irrational thought that they’d fit very well together in bed. Just as quickly, she banished the image and prayed Emory didn’t read minds. After all, she was supposed to be here getting Emory’s story too. Now she wouldn’t have to wait until they all gathered in Colorado to get started.
“Hello.” Emory’s voice was warm and mellow. Her gaze lingered on Dana’s for a few seconds before she turned to Blair and Diane again.
Wozinski, Hara, and Stark triangulated positions behind the grouping of sofas, and Dana realized that she stood midway between the perimeter formed by the agents and the inner circle of the three friends. She had often found herself caught between conflicting worlds—democracy and dictatorship, order and chaos, life and death. Despite being used to navigating the limbo of shifting landscapes, she had never felt as much an outsider as she did at this moment, nor been as aware of the desire to be connected. Watching Blair and Diane draw Emory into the fold of their affection, she experienced a pang of loneliness that settled in her chest and made it hard for her to breathe.
Everyone sat down, and Dana found herself next to Emory on a love seat across from Blair and Diane. A waitress appeared out of nowhere and took their orders for drinks. Dana didn’t drink much, but she ordered a beer while everyone else ordered wine. She rarely thought about her working-class upbringing, but right at this moment, surrounded by elegance and beauty, she felt the difference. Emory’s streamlined black skirt, she noticed, glided up her slender thighs when she crossed her legs. The slight whisper of pantyhose sliding over the surface of Emory’s skin made Dana’s stomach knot. She caught the barest trace of perfume, an aromatic scent that made her think of shadowed glades and sunlight dappling through a thick leafy canopy. She had the nearly irresistible urge to press her face to Emory’s neck.
“Thank God,” Dana muttered when the waitress brought their drinks. She took a long swallow of her beer and tried to distract herself from the altogether enthralling presence of Emory Constantine only inches away.
“So you’re really going to take time off,” Blair said to Emory. “I hope you’re planning to come with us when we leave on Monday.”
Emory laughed. “I didn’t pack enough for next week. I’ll have to go back to Boston first.”
“What could you possibly need at a ski resort that we can’t lend you?” Diane said.
“There’s a slight matter of you being five or six inches taller,” Emory pointed out.
Diane waved her hand in dismissal. “We’ll manage. Now that we’ve finally pried you out of your lab, we’re not letting you go back.”
“When’s the last time you had a vacation?” Blair asked.
“I travel a lot,” Emory said defensively.
Blair shook her head. “I’ve spent my life with politicians. It’s impossible to snow me with a diversionary answer like that. Vacation. Not business trip.”
“Uh…sometime last year.”
“There, see,” Diane said triumphantly. “You’re not going back to Boston. The second you do, you’ll start in on whatever it is you do and forget about coming with us.”
“I’m not going to forget that Blair is getting married,” Emory protested. She glanced at Dana with a friendly smile. “Are they this relentless with you too?”
“My situation is a little different,” Dana said, realizing that Emory didn’t know why she was there.
“Dana is a reporter, Emory,” Blair said, the slightest note of apology in her voice. “She’s covering the wedding for a Washington paper.”
“Oh.” Emory’s smile disappeared and her voice became distinctly cooler. She shifted slightly away and regarded Dana with thinly veiled suspicion. “I see.”
“Allergic to the press?” Dana asked sharply, bothered by the wall Emory had thrown up so quickly.
“Let’s just say my experiences haven’t been exactly positive,” Emory said, obviously trying to be polite. She set her wineglass down with exaggerated care, then looked regretfully at Blair. “I think I’ll have to pass on your offer to join your group this weekend.”
Blair didn’t look at Dana. “I’m sorry, Emory. I wasn’t thinking.”
“That’s quite all right. There’s no reason you should be.” Emory pushed her hair back from her face with a gesture of weariness. “Would you mind if I caught up with you later? I think I need a little time alone to unwind.”
“Of course not,” Blair said. “Promise you’ll call us later. Diane will be at my place for a while, and we were hoping you could come to dinner.”
“I’ll call.” Emory stood and gave Blair and Diane a quick hug. She nodded to Dana. “Good afternoon, Dana
.”
“Well, hell,” Diane muttered as Emory hurried away. “That puts a crimp in our plans.”
Dana put her beer bottle down and stood. “I think I can take care of this for you.”
Without waiting for a reply, Dana sprinted after Emory Constantine.
*
“We’re turning off the interstate,” Savard reported, checking the highway signs as the SUV slowed at the bottom of the exit ramp and turned west. “Looks like a pretty small road.”
Cam stretched her legs and shook some of the tension out of her shoulders. “I imagine this caravan was attracting a bit of attention on the highway. Easier to track by air out there too.”
“Air like helicopter or air like satellite?” Savard asked.
“Satellite for sure, possibly both.” Cam checked her watch. It got dark early in the mountains, but it was still later than she had hoped. “We’re not going to make it home tonight. We’ll be lucky if we make it home tomorrow.”
“You think we’re going to Illinois?”
Cam nodded. “My guess is they’re transferring Early and whoever else is in that van to the supermax facility at Marion. The Navy base at Guantánamo isn’t ready to hold detainees yet.”
“Hell,” Savard muttered, “if we don’t talk to this guy before he goes down there, we’ll never talk to him.”
“That’s why we’re on this road trip.”
“You want me to put in a call to base about our change in plans?”
Cam did, because she wanted to get a message to Blair that she wouldn’t be home when she had planned to be. On the other hand, even though she thought Early’s transfer just when she wanted to interrogate him might be a coincidence, she wasn’t convinced of it. She also believed their communications with base were as secure as they could make them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t being monitored. For the moment, she preferred not to broadcast her plans. “Let’s wait on that for a bit.”
A few minutes later Savard looked out the window again. “Foggy out there.”
“We’re climbing through the mountains. I don’t think I’ve ever crossed them when it wasn’t.”
A beep sounded from the console built into the side panel announcing that an occupant in the front compartment wished to speak to them. Cam pushed a button. “Yes?”
“The vehicle just ahead of us is signaling they’re going to pull over.”
Cam frowned. “Can you see any sign of mechanical problem? A flat tire or engine overheating?”
“No ma’am.”
“There’s not much of a shoulder on these twisty roads. Be careful we don’t hit them.”
“Do you want us to stop, Deputy Director?”
Cam considered her options. The prisoner transport van was sandwiched between the two other SUVs. Her vehicle was fourth in line. If the agents in the vehicle behind the van were having mechanical problems, they weren’t in any danger. They had phones and were undoubtedly in contact with their superiors. On the other hand, if she stopped, she’d lose the prisoner van and the lead SUV along with her opportunity to interrogate Early. “No, go around them and pull in line behind the van.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“What do you think that’s about?” Savard asked edgily.
“I don’t know.” Cam had a prickly sensation on the back of her neck and the uncomfortable feeling that she had missed something. She pushed the button on the intercom again. “Let me know if they speed up. And be prepared, they may try to lose us.”
“Don’t worry, they won’t.”
Cam tightened her seat belt. She could tell Savard felt uneasy too. At Savard’s unspoken request, Cam nodded. “Open the floor compartment.”
Savard leaned over while Cam punched in the code to unlock the storage bin beneath Savard’s feet. At the click of the lock disengaging, Savard opened it and extracted the shotgun from the clamps that held the weapon in place. She dropped the lid back on the compartment and rested the shotgun across her knees.
“If for any reason we need to leave the—” Cam’s words were obliterated by an explosion that rocked the vehicle. The SUV swerved abruptly and Cam catapulted forward. Her seat belt abruptly stopped her motion, and she vaguely registered a bruising pain across her chest. Then she was thrown violently back against the seat as the world dissolved in a dizzying, bone-jarring revolution of screeching metal.
*
“Emory, wait,” Dana called. For a second, she thought Emory would ignore her, but finally Emory stopped in front of the elevators.
Dana couldn’t read her expression so she went by instinct. Emory hadn’t seemed angry a few minutes earlier, more…sad. “It usually takes longer than five minutes for someone to decide they don’t like me.”
“It’s nothing personal.” Emory shrugged and pushed the up button. “It’s occupational.”
“I figured that out.”
“I’m sorry if I appear rude,” Emory said, her attention fixed on the elevator doors. “But I’m too tired to watch what I say, especially when I’m relaxing with my friends.”
The resentment in her voice was hard to miss. “How about if I tell you everything is off the record unless we agree otherwise.”
Emory gave Dana a curious look. “I’m afraid I’ll have to insult you again, but I don’t believe you.”
“Let me guess,” Dana said, taking a chance. “You told someone something in an intimate situation and it ended up in print.”
“Close enough.”
“Then she didn’t have any scruples. I do.” Dana touched Emory lightly on the shoulder to be sure Emery was listening. “Off the record means off the record.”
Emory smiled sadly. “That’s what he said too.”
He. The disappointment hit Dana like a fist in the solar plexus, but she managed to hide her shock. “Sorry, I just assumed—”
“There’s no need to apologize.”
“Well, since we don’t have to worry about pillow talk, you should feel even safer.”
“For some reason, I don’t,” Emory said, although her expression softened. “You’re a lot smoother than he was.”
“Glad to hear it.” Dana grinned and cupped Emory’s elbow, tugging gently. “Come back and finish your wine.”
“I’m not usually this easy to persuade,” Emory said with a small frown, falling into step beside Dana.
“It’s my natural charm,” Dana joked, wondering if she imagined the slight tremor beneath her fingertips. Emory’s arm brushed hers and she knew she wasn’t imagining the pulse of arousal that settled in the pit of her stomach. A news story, even one her boss had sent her out to get, was the furthest thing from her mind. All she wanted was to get to know Emory Constantine better. A lot better.
*
Cam registered two things at once. Heat and the smell of something burning. The vehicle had come to rest on its side, and she was dangling in her seat belt, her weight supported by the straps across her hips and chest. Breathing in that position was difficult. “Renée! Renée, are you all right?”
“Banged up,” Savard gasped. “Nothing serious.”
“Stay there until I can check you out.” Cam fumbled with the latch on her seat belt and finally opened it. She tumbled the few feet onto the door, which was now really the floor, and landed on her left shoulder. She grunted at the pain, then pushed herself to her knees just as Savard dropped next to her with a bone-crunching thud. The interior lights were out, and as she tried to see Savard, she realized that the air was a hazy red. Panic hit her hard, and for an instant, she saw her father’s limo explode in a fountain of fire. Mentally pushing the image away, she grasped Savard’s shoulder. “We have to get out of here. How’s your leg?”
“Leg’s fine.” Renée’s voice was clear and calm. “I’m okay, Commander. You think anyone’s out there?”
“We’ll have to climb out to see.” Cam pushed upright and fumbled with the door handle on what was now the roof. The first person out would be a sitting duck. “Still have the s
hotgun?”
In response, Renée chambered a cartridge.
“Once I’m out I’ll cover you,” Cam said. “Wait here.”
“Commander, let me go out first!”
“No.” Cam pushed up on the door with all her strength and it banged open. Cautiously she peered out, but all she could see were fingers of fire leaping into the air. A sniper could have her in his crosshairs and she’d never know. Her vehicle wasn’t on fire—at least not yet. Something else was burning close by. Although her arms were shaking, she braced herself on the open hatch, pulled herself up, and rolled over the side onto the ground. As soon as she hit, ignoring the rocks digging into her body, she pulled her pistol and put her back to the vehicle. From that position she could see a hundred and eighty degrees. All she saw was smoke. If there was anyone out there, they were well hidden. “Savard. Now. Quickly.”
A few seconds later, Savard plummeted next to Cam. “What about the guys up front?”
“Still inside.” Cam’s eyes finally adjusted to the eerie light. “Our vehicle went over the side. We’re down about fifty yards.” On her knees, she worked her way slowly toward the front of the vehicle. Another fifty yards down the slope, the van, or what she assumed had been the van, was completely engulfed in flames. “You check our escort. I’ll check the van.”
“Commander,” Savard protested, “let me go down.”
“Just watch my back, Savard.” Cam edged into the roiling clouds of black smoke. She doubted anyone was still alive in that inferno, but she had to find out. She couldn’t just stand by and watch them burn.
Chapter Eleven
“So are you going to take us up on the dinner offer?” Blair asked Emory. After Emory had returned with Dana, they’d all shared another drink, and as far as Blair could tell, Dana and Emory had made some kind of peace. Emory seemed more relaxed, and Dana couldn’t seem to look anywhere but at Emory.
“Before I say yes,” Emory said, “who’s cooking?”