by Radclyffe
The security chief settled beside her just as the aircraft began to taxi down the runway of the small airport just outside San Francisco. The seats were roomy in the luxury craft, but the length of their thighs touched and their shoulders pressed lightly together nevertheless.
"Good book?" Cam asked as she buckled in.
"Mmm", Blair nodded, closing it on one finger to mark her place. "Funny, sexy, and well put together."
"Sounds like a winning combination."
Blair brushed her fingers lightly over the top of the agent's hand where it rested on her trousered thigh. "I think so."
"Be good," Cam whispered, suppressing a grin. "Im working."
"Oh, really?" Blair raised an eyebrow, then laughed. "All rightIll give you a reprieve. But only for the rest of the flight. Then I intend to tease you as much as I like."
"Ill look forward to it".
Blair eased the seat back and rested her hand on Cams forearm, below the sightline of the agents in the front of the plane if they happened to turn around.
"Any pressing plans for the rest of the week?" Cam inquired. "We haven't had an itinerary review since we've been here, and I want to get everyone back to routine. It's better after what happened."
"Nothing special," Blair replied. "Since were going to be traveling again soon, I want to work. I'm hoping to have a full show this fall, and as of right now, I don't have enough canvases completed to do that." She sighed. "Theres always the chance that something will come through from the West Wing that I need to doI havent heard anything for a few days and thats never a good sign."
"I get a full briefing in the morning", Cam reminded her. "We can go over the weeks itinerary after that."
"Fine."
"Ill be out of town for a day or so", Cam said quietly.
Blair stiffened, automatically withdrawing her hand from Cams arm. "Oh?"
"If everything is quiet, Ill leave tomorrow night. Mac will have the detail."
Blair opened her book again. "Im sure he can handle it."
Cam didnt reply, because she didnt have any explanation that she could share, and half-truths would only make things worse. They were both quiet on the rest of the flightBlair reading and Cam sleeping on and off. Despite the silence, however, they leaned close together, their bodies still touchingtheir connection not completely broken.
Chapter Fourteen
The jet taxied to a stop on the runway at Teterboro airport in New Jersey, just across the Hudson River from Manhattan, and the team prepared to disembark. Cam walked to the front of the plane and stood at the top of the stairway that had been rolled across the tarmac to the open door. She pressed a finger to the receiver in her ear and listened to the report of a local agent in the first of two black Suburbans that approached along an access road toward the terminal. Satisfied, she turned to the agent behind her.
"Two minutes. Lets proceed inside".
Stark passed her and then Blair was beside her.
"Ready?" Cam asked her.
"Yes."
As soon as Blair stepped onto the tarmac with Cam and Stark flanking her, a horde of reporters, apparently having hidden around the corner of the building, appeared out of the darkness with video cameras and microphones at the ready. Harsh halogen lights flashed on, striking her in the face and blinding her. For a moment Blair was disoriented-and afraid.
"Ms. Powell, can you comment on the photograph in the New York Post?"
"Who was the person with you?"
"Where was it taken?"
"Can you confirm that you were with a lover?"
"Who?"
"name"
"Ms. Powell... Ms. Powell... Ms. Powell..."
Voices accosted her from every direction.
As soon as the barrage began, Cam and Stark quickly began shepherding her toward the small single story terminal while the other agents clambered down the stairs and converged on her as well. Mac double-timed to get in front of the group while Hernandez, along with Felicia Davis, closed in behind. The entire team formed a human wedge with Blair in the center, and the reporters scurried to get out of the way of the fast moving wall of bodies.
Nevertheless, their shouted questions followed them through the door and into the private VIP portion of the terminal.
"What are they talking about?" Blair whispered harshly to Cam as soon as the double doors closed behind them. She hated to be manhandled, even when it was for her own good, and in that moment, Cam was the nearest target for her anger. "Why didnt you know about them?"
"Whatever it is, it must have hit the wires after we were in the air, Cam muttered, lifting her wrist and barking questions into her microphone. After a moment of issuing instructions, she added, "Whoever is monitoring the news services in DC either didn't pick it up, or didn't think we needed to know about it."
Can was aggravated, because intelligence was critical for her to be able to anticipate and ward off problems. Had she known that a bevy of reporters would be waiting at the gate, she would have arranged for the transport to drive out onto the runway so that Blair would not have to walk to the terminal. "I'm sorry about this. I didnt have an advance team on the groundI should have."
"No", Blair shook her head, already calmer now that the unexpected assault had stopped. "Its not your fault. Let's just collect our luggage and get out of here before they find their way in."
"Dont worry", Cam said forbiddingly, her temper close to boiling. It was not only her responsibility to project Blair physically, but also to see that she was not ambushed by intrusive media hounds. She would have been angry if any of her protectees had been left open to such an affront, but the fact that it was her lover who had been subjected to the intrusive onslaught made it even worse. "They wont bother you again."
At that moment, Mac approached, a folded newspaper under his arm and a grim look on his face.
"What have you got?" Cam asked sharply. To her surprise, Mac blushed.
"Uh" He lifted the folded newspaper in his hand and glanced from Cam to Blair and then quickly away. "You might want to look at this in car."
"Let me see it," Blair said, extending her hand. "It's not going to get any better if I wait."
Wordlessly, he handed it to her. The Secret Service agents standing around averted their eyes but did not move from the protective circle they had formed, shielding her from the rest of the terminal.
Cam watched Blair's face as she opened the newspaper and quickly scanned the front page. She couldn't detect the slightest change in Blair's expression. When Blair silently folded the newspaper again and put it and the book she had been carrying under her arm, Cam said abruptly, «Okay, then. Let's get out of here."
Two of the men walked to be incoming baggage belt and collected everyone's bags, loading them quickly and efficiently onto a wheeled handcart. Within minutes, the team was once again ensconced in yet another pair of Suburbans and heading out of the airport toward the Lincoln Tunnel and Manhattan.
Stark and Davis were in the front while Blair and Cam occupied the rear. The agents who were off-duty had remained at the airport, making separate arrangements for cabs or family to pick them up there.
"Are you all right?" Cam asked. Blair had been silently staring out the window since they had gotten into the vehicle.
Turning to face her, Blair smiled, her face sad in the irregular illumination of passing headlights and flickering neon signs. "I've been waiting for this. I was just sitting here, trying to think how long I've been waiting."
Cam waited but when Blair said no more she simply took the newspaper that Blair passed to her across the space between their seats. She unfolded it and held it toward the window to catch enough light to read it. Prominently displayed below the fold were a picture and the caption, "President's Daughter and Secret Lover?"
In a hazy, night shot a woman who looked very much like Blair could be seen kissing someone, although the other individual's identity was difficult to determine because of the camera angle and the obvio
us distance from which it had been taken.
"Son of a bitch," Cam whispered. It was a photograph of the two of them on the beach in San Francisco, the first night that Cam had arrived from DC. She raised her eyes to Blair and said quietly, "I'm sorry."
"About what? The kiss or the photograph?"
"Definitely not the kiss."
Blair nodded once, sharply. "Good."
Cam struggled in the poor light to read the short paragraph underneath the picture. It didn't say much - just the usual titillating inferences about Blair's alleged liaisons with movie stars, underworld kingpins or elected officials that were often linked to Blair in similar publications. Precisely because she was so private, and because the White House tried diligently to keep her out of the public eye unless it was a sanctioned official function, the press loved to conjecture about her love life. Except this time they were getting awfully close to the truth.
"I think it's interesting, Cam said after a minute, "that they don't name names and they don't specifically state that you are with a woman. Whoever took this photograph must know."
"I noticed that myself," Blair said darkly. "It's almost as if someone is teasing me-or taunting me. What do you make of it?"
"I don't have any idea." Cam shook her head, angry for Blair at the invasion of her privacy and furious at herself for being so careless that she let someone close enough to get the shot. "But what I want to know is where the hell he was and why my people didn't see him."
"Well, I have a feeling this is only the beginning." Blair laughed bitterly. "This is going to be embarrassing for my father, but the big question is, what is this going to do to you professionally if someone recognizes you?"
"I don't think that's the most important thing right now," Cam disagreed. "There's something off about this entire situation, because if this were just some reporter looking to make a story, my name would be in this article. The fact that you are kissing awoman would be the headline-abovethe fold."
"Blackmail?"
"If it is, they've got more balls than brains. You don't blackmail the daughter of the President of the United States. Not like this-and, goddamn it-not on my watch."
"Well", Blair said resignedly, suddenly aware of a weariness that went deeper than flesh, "Im sure well know soon enough."
Tiredly, she leaned her forehead against the glass, watching the night slide by. The stretch of highway outside the speeding vehicle was barren and seemed to echo the emptiness in her heart. Of course she had been foolish to think that she would be allowed to love anyone in peace, let alone someone like the woman seated across from her. She closed her eyes, knowing that she would sleep alone that night, and wanting more than anything else for that not to be true.
Chapter Fifteen
Cam watched Blair as wordless moments passed. It was the quiet that worried her. Anger she would have expectedeven, considering the circumstances-embraced. Accusations of her own complicity in allowing the photo to be taken, however unfounded, would have been more welcome than the curtain of silence that fell heavily between them.
She tried to imagine how it must feel to have one's most personal experiences on display, not just once, but repeatedly. She couldn't, even though it washer picture in the newspaper as well. Even had her face been clear, and her name printed in bold letters beneath the image, it wouldn't have been the same thing for her as it was for Blair. She wasn't recognized the world over, nor was her family likely to be held up to scrutiny by self-appointed guardians of right and wrong whose true motivation was nothing loftier their own their political gain. She was guilty of nothing, but even if she were, her transgression would soon be forgotten.
That was not the case for Blair Powell or her father. The President was not immune to the effect of public opinion, just the opposite. Right or wrong had nothing to do with the fact that powerful groups jockeyed constantly for position and influence in the Washington political arena. Something as inflammatory as Andrew Powell's daughter's love affair-especially herlesbian love affair-would give his opponents one more piece of ammunition to threaten him with.
"Blair," Cam began gently, "is there anything I can do?"
Finally turning away from the window and the night and her own troubled thoughts, Blair straightened infinitesimally. When she spoke, her voice was stronger, carrying a hint of its old steel. "Yes. You can tell me right now if you're up for what's coming."
"What?" Cam exclaimed, too surprised by the question to even absorb it completely. When the reality of what Blair was asking finally hit her, she replied heatedly, "You can't really think that this would matter to me?"
"It's one thing to talk in the abstract about the possibility of exposure. It's quite another thing to be the center of a media circus. Believe me, I know."
"Jesus Christ."
Cam stared at her as she bit back another irate retort. Blairs voice had been calm, steady-her face expressionless. She looked the way she'd looked the first day Cam had met her-cool, controlled, untouchable. Cam remembered very well the angry, wounded woman Blair had been, and how in recent weeks that rage had burned less brightly and the wounds had seemed less raw. Until this.
Christ, she's scared.
That realization defused Cam's anger. Fear was not something she associated with the Presidents daughter, and perhaps for the first time, she understood the price of Blairs strength-the isolation and the impenetrable defenses and the expectation of loss.
Quickly, Cam shifted across the narrow space between them until she was sitting on the seat next to Blair. She found her hand in semi-darkness and whispered vehemently, "I intend to find out who is behind this. Once I do, I intend to kick their ass from one side of this continent to the other. I love you. Nothing and no one will ever change that."
Blair tightened her grip on Cam's hand and leaned into the reassuring solidity of her body. "You don't even know yet what kind of pressure there's going to be for us to stop seeing one another."
The words hit Cam in the center of her chest like a sledgehammer. Even being shot hadn't hurt as much. "No. Don't even think it, because it gives the possibility power. Please."
"When you were shot", Blair said as if reading her thoughts, «I felt parts of me dying with you. Her voice was hushed, as if she were speaking in a dream. "I had only just begun to let you in, and I was nearly lost already. Now, I dont think I could survi"
"Blair. I love you. I am not going anywhere. I swear."
Blair searched her eyes and saw only truth. "It scares me how much I need you."
"Dont forget I need you, too". Cam lifted Blairs hand, brushed a kiss swiftly across the back of her knuckles. "More than youll ever know."
"Ill try to remember that". Blair drew the first full breath shed taken since the airport. "So-what do we do now, Commander?"
Cam laughed, but there was an edge to the laughter. "Im a Secret Service agent. Do you think I cant track down the little bastard that gave that photo to the wire service?"
"Just be careful, Cam", Blair warned. «Someone doesnt need a gun to be dangerous. In the right hands, a camera can be lethal.
"Any coward who chooses this underhanded way of going after you is no threat to me. Dont worry."
"Why dont I feel reassured?"
"Ill be careful. But this is what I do."
"I suppose I have to accept the logic of that", Blair finally conceded. Again she sighed. "I'm surprised I haven't heard from the White House by now. The Chief of Staff must be having kittens all over the West Wing."
"I thought Lucinda Washburn was a personal friend of your family's," Cam said, referring to the woman who most people considered the most powerful woman in Washington. As the first female Chief of Staff, she held the President's ear and served as his most instrumental adviser. When Andrew Powell had run for the presidency, he had made it very clear that no decision would be made without her input. That had proved to be true over the first months of his tenure when economic crises at home and the reemergence of violent foreign
unrest had placed his administration in the spotlight.
"Trust me," Blair said without any hint of animosity. "Lucy's number one goal from the day my father was sworn in has been to get him reelected. She's known him since they were in college, and I think she's been working to get him where he is today since then. She'd sacrifice almost anything oranyone to keep him in the White House for a second term."
"And you think that includes forcing you to...what?" Cam asked in frustration. "Give up our relationship?"
"I think Lucy considers relationships expendable if they stand in the way of a higher goal."
"What about your father? Does he feel the same way?"
"I don't know." Blair glanced out the window as they emerged from the Lincoln Tunnel into Manhattan, realizing that they were only moments from her building. "I don't know him well enough to guess. But I don't think it will be very long before we find out."
*****
A few minutes later, the cars pulled up in front of Blair's apartment building, and the occupants of both vehicles began the familiar, choreographed routine of disembarking. Once through the doors and into the small but ornate lobby of the elegant building, Blair hesitated. The elevator was twenty feet away, and Stark had already walked over to it and keyed the single locked car which went to Blair's top floor apartment. Turning her back to the elevator and the agents waiting nearby, Blair faced Cam and said hurriedly in a voice too low for the others to hear, "Is there any way you can stay?"
Cam could only imagine what it cost Blair to ask that. Her eyes swept over the agents waiting to accompany Blair upstairs, several of whom would remain one floor below her apartment in the command center for the remainder of the night shift.
"I want to. You know that don't you?" Cam said, her voice a strained whisper.
Blair's eyes swiftly became unreadable. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."