by Radclyffe
professionals. Considering the event—Secret Service.
Neither of them moved as Wes parked behind a long line of
empty vehicles, exited, and walked toward them, but she knew they
were following her every step. She couldn’t see their eyes behind the
unnecessary shades. The sky was blanketed in a thick cover of gray
clouds, and she doubted either of them had any trouble seeing in the
flat midday light. Being able to observe without being observed was a
power play. It probably worked on civilians.
“I’m Captain Wesley Masters,” she said when she stopped a few
feet away from them, stating the obvious, as the insignia on her dress
blues, visible under her open topcoat, clearly indicated her rank. “I’m
here to liaise with the Medical Unit.”
“We know all the members of the WHMU,” the woman said in
a surprisingly full, smooth alto. No intonation. Not aggressive, not
challenging, not interested. Just the facts, thank you, ma’am. “You’re
not on it.”
Up close, Wes could see that what she had taken for glossy dark
hair was actually a deep burgundy—as if the midnight sky was flaming.
Barely tamed curls fell to below the crisp white collar and fanned
artfully around what appeared to be a sharply drawn but distinctive
face. She’d put the eyes at blue on a guess, but the opaque shades made
it impossible to tell. The agent had a body under those clothes, despite
the suit being cut, intentionally Wes would bet, to blunt her figure. The
tailored lines couldn’t hide the curves of her breasts and thighs—she
was fit and flinty and quite attractively female. The guy with her still
hadn’t said anything. The redhead was in charge.
“Your intel is out-of-date, then,” Wes said, and the agent stiffened
perceptibly. “You might want to check with your boss.” She turned her
wrist slightly. 1159. One minute. “If you could do that promptly, I’d
appreciate it.”
• 16 •
Oath Of hOnOr
One perfectly sculpted brow arched above the flat rim of the dark
shades. “ID, please.”
Wes slid her hand into the pocket of her topcoat and handed over
her military ID card. She smiled. “Here you are.”
The male agent’s lips lifted in a faint smile. The woman’s face
remained blank. Beautiful and remote. Wes waited while the agent
spoke softly into her wrist mic. A few seconds later, the agent held out
her ID.
“You’re cleared to enter, Captain.”
The man turned to open the gate. Wes slid her ID back into her
pocket. “Thank you, Agent…”
“Daniels, ma’am,” Agent Daniels said formally. “An agent will
meet you just inside the gate to escort you.”
“Thank you,” Wes said. “I’m sure I can find—”
“It’s protocol. Captain.”
“Understood.” Wes stepped through the gates and they swung
closed behind her. She had a lot to learn, and she was out of her element
on every level. Hopefully the WHMU personnel would be a little more
welcoming than Agent Daniels.
v
“She the one?” Gary Brown asked as the gates swung closed
behind the naval officer.
“Looks like it.” Evyn scanned the approach road and the dense
underbrush growing right up to the shoulders. The advance team had
been on-site for four days and had locked down the north half of the
island. Fire roads and beach-access lanes that might provide curious
onlookers and those with more serious agendas a way to get close
to Whitley Manor had been barricaded and were being patrolled by
agents, on foot and ATV. A two-mile no-fly zone had been established
around the island. As protective details went, this one was fairly close to
ideal. One access road, no surrounding buildings with line of sight, and
the only other approach by sea. They had the Coast Guard patrolling
that. There was even an expansive lawn big enough and clear enough
to accommodate Marine One, so no motorcade route to secure. The
nearest hospital was a short helo ride away. All in all, today looked
• 17 •
RADCLY fFE
routine, but that wasn’t a word in her vocabulary. Complacency bred
error. And she didn’t make mistakes.
“That was pretty fast,” Gary said. “Getting her on board.
O’Shaughnessy hasn’t even been dead two days.”
“It’s not like they could leave the spot open,” Evyn said darkly.
Except why the hell the powers that be had gone outside to bring
in a complete novice was beyond her. They already had a field-
tested, experienced battle surgeon who could have stepped into
O’Shaughnessy’s shoes without a ripple in routine. Instead, they
dropped an unknown into their lap. Hell, they hadn’t even been briefed
she was going to show up today.
“Is Pete pissed he got passed over?” Gary asked.
“You know Pete. He’s a team player. But that job should’ve been
his.” Evyn could be mad for Pete if he wasn’t going to be mad for
himself. After all, that’s what friends were for, and even though they’d
only worked together two years, they were tight. They shared a near-
maniacal need to win at everything, which had been obvious the first
time they’d played cards on an overnight flight to some now-forgotten
destination. She came by her competitiveness growing up in a family of
super-achievers, he by being the first American-born child in a family
of immigrants. Pete had to be disappointed he didn’t get the job, but he
didn’t let on. So she’d be disappointed and pissed off for him. “Who
knows what strings got pulled? It’s a political appointment—probably
someone somewhere knows someone who owed somebody a favor.”
“Happens all the time on the Beltway,” Gary said.
“Yeah, I know.” She rarely paid attention to politics—who had
time? And if this appointment hadn’t affected her so personally and her
job so intimately, she wouldn’t have cared.
“Younger than I thought she’d be,” Gary commented casually.
“Kind of…interesting.”
Evyn didn’t react to his not-so-subtle probing. Hell. She
couldn’t argue. The captain was younger—and way hotter—than
O’Shaughnessy. She still couldn’t take in that O’Shaughnessy was
dead. He’d only been in his early fifties and a good-looking fifty, still
fit and trim. Ran five miles every day. Didn’t smoke, hardly drank.
Who would have expected him to drop dead in the gym? She’d figured
his replacement would be closer to his age, not almost two decades
younger, like Captain Wesley Masters. The navy doctor was a lot
• 18 •
Oath Of hOnOr
more than interesting too. She was five feet ten inches or so of sinewy
grace, capped off by golden brown hair shot through with sunlight
and wheat and cut a bit rough-and-tumble around her face and throat.
The effect was a little casual and a lot sexy. And her eyes, even on a
gray, overcast day, were heather green. Spring-kissed. Gorgeous. Evyn
grimaced. She’d rather have to dislike someone wh
o wasn’t so damn
good looking, but she’d manage.
“You know,” Gary said, “it’s probably not her fault she got tapped
for the post.”
“Never said it was,” Evyn said sharply. Of course Gary would
pick up on the slightest sign of attraction—the guy was a sponge when
it came to reading people. Never missed anything. She had to stay
on her toes all the time or he’d be watching the X-rated fantasies she
occasionally played in her head to pass the time standing post.
“Just saying,” he went on, “since we have to work together and
all. Might be smart to play nice.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. I can work with her just fine.
As long as no one expects us all to be one big happy family.”
“Kind of works better when we are, considering…”
Evyn folded her arms across her chest and made another visual
sweep of the area. “Then they should have given Pete the job. After all,
he earned it.”
v
The Secret Service agent who escorted Wes to the building was
silent as they strode up the meandering flagstone walkway between
snow-filled sunken pools. The manor house rose suddenly from the
late-morning mist, a sweeping three-story stone edifice sitting high
above cascading dunes that fell away to the ocean’s edge. A white-
pillared wraparound veranda, which she imagined was the perfect place
for summer entertaining, was empty now except for security posted
at regular intervals along its perimeter. The muted rumble of voices
carried through the carved wooden front doors as the agent opened
them for her.
“Thank you,” Wes said, stepping inside.
A white-jacketed valet appeared instantly at her side. “May I take
your coat, Captain?”
• 19 •
RADCLY fFE
She shrugged out of it, said, “Yes, thank you,” and handed it
over.She continued down a wide hallway, following the murmur of
conversation into a great room with soaring ceilings and one entire
wall of glass that afforded a view of the island and ocean. The sliding
glass doors to the veranda were closed now, but in the summer the sea
breezes would fill the space. She glanced around, taking stock of the
guests. She was surprised to see—or rather, not see—many dignitaries
in attendance. Some of the quietly milling crowd was in uniform, but
many wore civilian clothes. She didn’t know much about the president’s
daughter, other than what most of the world knew—Blair Powell had
been by her father’s side on the campaign trail and, since his election,
often stood in for him at political events where an official presence
was required but the president himself was not needed. Blair was the
unofficial first lady of the nation, and the nation loved her.
She was also a lesbian, and today was her wedding day.
• 20 •
Oath Of hOnOr
chapter twO
Blair stepped into the hall with her father just as Cam and Cam’s
mother came out of the room opposite. Cam looked even
more handsome than ever—which was saying a lot. Blair’s stomach
tightened as their eyes met. She’d seen Cam just the night before when
they’d had a late-night supper with Tanner and Adrienne at Whitley
Manor. She and Cam had slept apart the night before the wedding,
agreeing the tradition added to the specialness of the occasion. Twelve
hours or twelve days made no difference—every time they met after
being apart, she was struck with the force of their connection. The air
around her came alive and her heart beat faster. Cam’s gaze held hers
for an instant, as firmly and certainly as a caress, before moving to her
father.“Sir.” Cam nodded to the president.
Blair’s father said, “Morning, Cameron,” and moved a few feet
away to greet Cam’s mother.
“Hello, darling,” Blair said softly, sliding her hand down Cam’s
arm to clasp her fingers. They were warm and strong, fitting hers
perfectly. Like Cam.
“Hi, baby,” Cam murmured, stepping close.
“Any second thoughts?” Blair asked playfully, but some tiny part
of her was still amazed Cam wanted her, body and soul, forever. Her
head might have little niggling insecurities. But her heart never did.
Cam always made her feel completely and totally loved.
“Not a one.” Cam answered with absolute conviction and gave
her a look that said she wanted to kiss her. For a fleeting second, Blair
• 21 •
RADCLY fFE
wondered if it wasn’t too late to elope. When Cam got that smoky look
in her eyes, all Blair wanted was Cam inside her. She supposed there
was no way off the island without being noticed, though, and tried
not to sigh in frustration. Cam’s eyes sparkled with amusement and a
promise. Blair smiled. Cam knew her too well.
“Okay—it was just a passing thought,” Blair said. “I really am
looking forward to this.”
“You look beautiful.” Cam lifted her hand to kiss her fingers.
“So do you.” Blair was surprised to hear her voice shaking. The
wedding was important for a lot of reasons, not all of them personal.
She loved Cam and wanted to say so to the whole world. She wanted
to wear Cam’s ring and put hers on Cam’s hand. But more was at stake
today than just their private celebration. Even today, she was not just
any woman. All her life she’d been her father’s daughter, and she
wouldn’t change that no matter how hard the public scrutiny had been
at times or how often she’d chafed under the restrictions. He was the
president of the United States and his daughter was about to marry
another woman—with his blessing. Their wedding was historic. Blair
squeezed Cam’s hand, putting everything but Cam from her mind. “Just
to be clear, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“I’m yours, forever. Count on it.”
“I do.”
“I do too,” Cam said.
“I’ll see you downstairs, then, and we can say it again for the
whole world to hear.” Blair released Cam’s hand and rejoined her
father. “Ready, Daddy?”
“Absolutely,” her father said.
Blair glanced back at Cam and raised her brow. “Commander?”
“Anything you say, Ms. Powell,” Cam called after her.
Her steps as light as her heart, Blair laughed.
v
“Wes!”
Wes spun around, caught sight of Emory Constantine hurrying
toward her, and opened her arms. “Hi, Em.”
“Hi yourself!” Emory’s arms went around her neck and warm lips
brushed her cheek. Emory hugged her hard.
• 22 •
Oath Of hOnOr
“It’s great to see you,” Wes said gruffly, her throat tightening.
Why was it so hard to keep in touch with the most important people
in her life? She hadn’t seen Emory for months, about as long as it had
been since she’d been home. She missed Emory like family. Emory
was family. Wes had acquaintances at work, colleagues she liked and
respected, people she talked with every da
y. But no one she shared
with. Emory, and her mother and her sisters, were the ones she trusted.
“You look beautiful.”
Wes stepped back, keeping Emory’s hands in hers. Emory’s
shimmering blue dress brought out the highlights in her dark eyes and
glossy shoulder-length black hair. She was, as always, utterly stunning
while radiating complete confidence and self-assurance. Some people
probably thought her ease, even when surrounded by some of the
most influential people in the world, came from being lauded on the
covers of Time and People for her lab’s stem-cell breakthroughs, but
Emory had been certain about everything as long as Wes had known
her. Emory never lost sight of what she wanted, where she was headed,
what she would accomplish. Wes loved her single-mindedness and total
confidence. Emory had always said the same thing about her, but Wes
suspected she only looked self-assured on the outside as a result of her
height and her athletic build and the lessons she’d learned early in life—
never show fear, never show weakness, and never, ever be ashamed of
who she was. Poverty had a way of creating dignity; at least it had in
her house. But she knew it was camouflage. Even all these years later,
she still wondered where she fit in the world and was always aware of
what she had to do to secure her place. Her work was her lifeline—her
security and her satisfaction.
Emory brushed her hand over the fruit salad above Wes’s heart, her
fingertips making the ribbons and medals sway against the immaculate
blue material a shade darker than Emory’s dress. “Look who’s talking.
You’re downright dashing in this uniform, Captain. I fear I might
swoon.”
Wes laughed, and a sandy-haired, sharp-eyed woman in a dark
suit and coffee-colored shirt coughed discreetly at Emory’s elbow, her
body language possessive without being proprietary. “I’m standing
right here, babe.”
Emory’s face lit up with an expression Wes had never seen there
before. Pure joy. Emory grabbed the lanky newcomer around the waist
• 23 •
RADCLY fFE
and pulled her close. “Wes, this is Dana. She’s my”—Emory glanced at
Dana, an eyebrow raised—“fiancée?”
Dana laughed, a deep throaty chuckle. “Proposal accepted.” She
held out her hand to Wes. “Dana Barnett. I’m with Emory.”
“Yes,” Wes said. “I believe I’ve heard your name mentioned a