by Radclyffe
Sighing, Blair nodded. "Only for you, Commander."
Lightly, Cam stroked her cheek. "I love you."
Then she opened the door and crossed the foyer to the elevator. Blair watched until the elevator doors closed behind her.
And then the longing, the other side of love, began.
*****
Downstairs in Command Central, Cam found Mac in a cubbyhole in one corner of the main room, reviewing the pre-Paris intelligence reports. "Where's Stark?"
"In the gym, I think. She's got the swing shift today. I didn't have any intel that Egret would be flying. Do you need her now?"
"Not for Egret". Shes settled in the nest. Cam pointed to the ceiling and Blairs apartment above. "But I want to talk to both of you. Let's go find her."
Five minutes later, they discovered Stark flat on her back on a weight bench, a barbell poised over her chest, counting reps out loud. She was alone in the twenty by thirty foot room outfitted with weights and aerobic equipment that the team used to keep in shape and work off excess adrenalin while waiting for Egret to leave the Aerie, as they referred to her top floor sanctuary.
"You should probably have a spotter," Mac remarked good-naturedly as he lifted the bar from her hands and settled it into the cleats. She sat up, reaching for a towel as she did so. Quickly, she wiped the sweat from her face and off her bare arms. In a sleeveless T-shirt and gym shorts, her body looked sturdy and muscular.
"Sorry," Stark said glancing from Mac to Cam. "I didn't think there was anything on for me. Ill just grab a fast shower and-"
"Relax, Stark," Cam said as she slipped off her suit jacket. The air-conditioning in the workout room left a little something to be desired, and it was humid the way all gyms seemed to be. "This is not about Egret's detail."
Clearly puzzled, Stark remained silent as Cam settled onto a bench facing her and Mac sat down by her side. Automatically, she moved over an inch to give him some room and herself space to maneuver. An agent never let their personal perimeter be encroached upon.
"I have to go to DC this afternoon", Cam said. "Mac, youll have the watch."
"Okay. Do you need me to make flight arrangements?"
"No. Ill just catch a shuttle. I expect to be back tomorrow, butsomething may come up". She paused, then said briskly, "Somethinghas come up."
She handed Mac the manila envelope. "Take a look at that. Handle it carefully-there probably arent any prints, but we could get lucky."
Stark checked the envelope over Macs shoulder. "No post marks."
"It came by courier this morning". Hand delivered.
Mac drew in a quick breath, no doubt having the same uncomfortable feelings of deja vu shed had at first seeing the black block letters spelling out Blair's name. "It went through to her?"
"Yes."
"Who was downstairs?" Stark asked, an edge to her voice.
"Taylor". He scanned it, then had it sent up to Egret. No reason not to.
Carefully, Mac pulled the photograph out by the corner and placed it atop the envelope in his lap. The two agents studied it for a minute without comment. Finally, Mac looked up at her. "Any message with it?"
"No."
"When was it taken," Stark asked, her tone guarded. She wasnt used to questioning her commander about anything, let alone something that was obviously personal.
"Last night about 3:00 a.m."
"Jesus", Mac exclaimed. "How"
"Someone must have tailed me downtown from here, because I never went home."
Neither of them asked how it was possible that she had been followed. Ordinarily, a Secret Service agent didnt worry about their own security. They were just anonymous faces on the fringes of the spotlight, nearly identical and interchangeable. And replaceable.
"What really worries me is that someone probably tailed usfrom Teterboroto here. Which means that we have a problem in terms of Egrets security."
"Do you think that shes a target of some kind?" Mac asked.
"Jesus, not again", Stark breathed, unaware that she had even spoken aloud.
"Probably not physically", Cam replied grimly. "But that remains to be seen. We must assume she is. Maybe this is the same photographer who took the photo in San Francisco."
Stark stared for a second, her thoughts practically written across her broad, smooth face. "On the beach"
"Yes", Cam said quietly.
"Oh, man, Im sorry, Commander", she said miserably. "I had the beach in view the whole time, but he must have gotten by me."
"He got by us both, Stark. Forget it". Cam tried to shrug away the anger that rose every time she thought of someone watching her and Blair together during an innocent, intimate moment. When theyd both felt safe.Christ, is this how she feels all the time? No wonder shes angry. How in hell does she stand it?
"Commander?" Mac asked uncertainly.
Cam flinched imperceptibly, her gaze refocusing on her agents. "Id like to know whos taking such an interest."
"You want me to run this through forensics?"
"Like I saidwe could get lucky. Maybe he licked the envelope and well get a DNA sample."
"Or may be she did", Stark interjected.
"I suppose thats possible", Cam allowed, keeping her tone carefully neutral.
Mac glanced again at the image, seeming to be searching for words. "Do you uh know this woman?"
"No, I dont," Cam answered crisply. "Try calling Walker in the New York City lab to run the tests. Hes good."
"Uh, excuse me, Commander", Stark said, "but maybe thats not such a good idea. Respectfully, maam."
Cam eyed her. "Go ahead."
"Well, this photograph istelling."
"Interesting choice of words", Cam remarked dryly, hating the disclosure of something so private, even to those she trusted. The younger agent colored, and Cam regretted her brief loss of control. "Go ahead, Stark."
"I think we should handle this internally as far as possible."
"Are you up on your forensics?" Mac interjected. "Cause I sure cant walk this through a lab."
"No", Stark answered tentatively, seemingly feeling her way along a narrow ledge that threatened to crumble under her feet. "But I know someone we can trust whocan do it. Renee Savard."
"Shes FBI", Mac exclaimed. "Since when do we trustthem ?"
"Shes a friend", Stark insisted, holding his gaze steadily. "I know she wont betray us. And shes been assigned to a desk at the New York City field office."
"Isnt she still in the hospital?" Cam asked.
"Until today. I'm going there in a few minutes to pick her up. For the first time", she appeared unsure. "To give her a ride homeyou know."
Cam suppressed a grin. "Understood. But shes got to be on medical leave for a while."
Stark laughed derisively. "Sure. For about a day. Shell go in the first chance she gets."
"Mac?" Cam asked.
He thought about the conversations hed had in the past with the FBI agent. She had always dealt with them squarely, and she had been willing to give her life for Egret. Still, he had an inherent distrust of the FBI. "Yeah, I say we keep it in house. And Savard isalmost one of us."
"Agreed". Cam stood. "Stark, mind if I tag along with you to the hospital on my way to the airport?"
"Ill be ready in five, the agent responded, jumping up and heading for the shower."
"Keep me informed of any developments on this end, Mac."
"Dont worry, Commander", he assured her rapidly. "Well be fine here."
"Of course", she said with confidence. But leaving Blair was getting harder every day, and it had less and less to do with her assignment as the First Daughters security chief.
Chapter Twenty
"Is she okay?"
"Sure," Stark responded automatically, watching the door swing closed behind Cameron Roberts.
Renee Savard, seated on the side of her narrow hospital bed, raised an eyebrow. Her coffee-colored skin had regained its luster and her blue eyes were sharp and clear once again
. If the bruise on her forehead or the healing gunshot wound in her shoulder were causing her any pain, she didn't show it. Even in a faded, shapeless hospital gown she was striking.
"She took quite a beating in the blast, you know," Stark acknowledged uneasily. "Why?"
"She looks tired, that's all. I'm guess Im just not used to seeing her that way. Her blue eyes probed the face of the agent rocking faintly back and forth on her heels by the side of her bed, clearly uncomfortable discussing her chief. Renee noticed, too, the circles smudging the smooth clear skin under Paulas eyes, and she realized thatall of them had taken a beating the last few weeks. Softly, she asked, «How about you?You okay?.
"Yeah. Fine."
"That's good," Savard replied, not really believing her. «It took guts for Roberts to come here today and show me that photo.
"She doesn't back down from anything," Stark agreed.
"Still Iam FBI. For all she knows I could send that straight to an Assistant Director and shed have a jacket by sundown".
"Yeahlike we all dont anyhow", Stark said angrily. "You know Doyle investigated all of us when the task force was formed."
"Thats just SOP", Savard pointed out gently. "But I know it sucked for all of you."
Starks expression softened. "Sorry, I know it wasnt on you. Do you think you'll be able to help us out?"
"Shouldn't be a problem. I know a couple of people in the lab who will run things through for me with no questions asked. They're such total lab rats they probably don't even know who she is. I don't think they'll make the connection. It will buy her a little time, but sooner or later, you know something is going to come out."
Stark was silent, torn between her desire to share her concerns and her loyalty to her commander's privacy.
"I saw the photo in the newspaper last night," Savard remarked casually. "The one of Blair Powell and the mystery lover."
"Yeah," Stark said offhandedly. "The whole team seems to be a popular subject these days."
"That's Roberts with her, isn't it?"
Once again, Stark hesitated.
"Paula, anyone with eyes can see what's happening between those two. You know damn well I don't care. Why should I? It's their business."
"Yeah," Stark replied with a hint of bitterness. "Itshould be just their business-but considering it's the first daughter and all-andthe commander being on the team-you know it's complicated."
"Complicated. Yes, I agree with that. But it's still nobody's business. It's for them to work out the complications."
"I hope they can," Stark said fervently. She'd been on Egret's team since day one, and for a few months before Ellen Grant had been assigned, she'd been the only woman. She'd watched Blair tear through one night stands and dangerous liaisons-until the Commander had come along. Now it was all different. Better.
Savard smiled, watching the concern darken Stark's eyes. "You're sweet, have I ever mentioned that?"
"Maybe," Stark said, grinning.
"They'll be okay."
"Sure, I know that." Stark straightened her shoulders. "I'm glad you didn't mind me suggesting that you help out. I didn't know that the Commander was going to brief you herself."
Savard reached out and took Stark's hand, running her thumb back and forth over the top of her hand as their fingers intertwined. "You did right. I'm glad you thought of me.
"I think about you all the time." Stark blushed, but her voice was firm and her eyes held Savard's steadily.
"Good. Now let's get me dressed so you can take me home," Savard said, reaching for the clothes on her bed. Carefully, she worked each leg into her pants and stood up by the side of the bed, frowning as she contemplated how to close buttons and zippers with only one functioning hand. Her left hand was held tightly across her chest in a sling. "Uh... I think I'm going to need some help here. Sorry."
"No problem," Stark said nonchalantly, stepping forward and sliding up the zipper on the FBI agent's pants, being careful not to touch the taut smooth skin of her abdomen as Renee held the hospital gown up with her good hand. Then she worked the button closed on the waistband and looked around for Renee's shirt.
Renee hooked a finger inside Stark's belt and tugged playfully. "This is where I should say something clever about how I wish you wereun dressing me."
Stark colored and lifted the dark blue polo shirt from the bottom of the bed. She held it in front of her and said, "Here. I guess we'll have to take the sling off to get this on." She frowned. "Is that okay? I don't want to hurt you."
"I cant raise my arm. I think we're going to have to use something with buttons," Savard observed. "Is there anything in the bag like that?"
Stark rapidly looked through the contents of the gym bag which Renee's sister had brought earlier that day. "No. Everything pulls on over your head."
"Well, I don't intend to leave here in this hospital gown-and I'm not staying one more minute longer than I have to." Savard was silent for a few seconds, and then she smiled, her eyes twinkling. "You're about my size. Give me your shirt."
"Myshirt!"
"Well, it buttons, which is the primary thing. You can wear my polo shirt."
"There's a problem," Stark said, her face reddening again.
"Paula, I work mostly with men. I went through the FBI Academy with a class that was 90 percent male. A little sweat, especially yours, is not going to bother me.
"That's not the problem," Stark said stiffly. "I'm not...uh...wearing anything under it."
"Even better. A shirt and a bonus." Renee Savard laughed out loud at Stark's expression. "Take off the jacket and give me the damn shirt. I want to get out of here-and don't even think about asking me to close my eyes."
Stark shed her jacket and pulled her pale-blue button-down collared shirt from the waistband of her black trousers. Her gun was clipped on the right side of her pants and she steadied the holster with one hand while she worked the buttons free on the front of her shirt with the other.
"You want me to do that?" Savard asked innocently.
"You only have one hand remember?" Stark was smiling now. She liked the way Savard's eyes widened slightly as the material over her breasts parted with each button that she loosened.
"You'd be amazed what I can do with one hand." Renee's voice was lower, a bit husky. She reached out her hand, and Paula stepped back a foot.
"I've got it."
"Don't trust me?" Renee asked teasingly, her eyes on the muscled chest and small, firm breasts now nearly completely exposed.
"No," Stark said quietly. "Don't trust myself."
"I do," Renee whispered, moving closer and placing a kiss on her lips. She held it, savoring the soft full lower lip exploring hers and the barest press of breasts against her own. It was going to be very easy to get lost in Paula Stark's arms. Sighing with a mixture of pleasure and regret, she broke the kiss. "Time to go."
"I have to work tonight," Stark managed, her throat thick. She held out her shirt, unmindful of her nudity now. Her skin felt so hot all she wanted was the cool touch of Renee's fingers. "I'm sorry."
Savard shook her head and took the shirt. "Until when?"
"Midnight."
"I'll nap." Savard tossed her the polo shirt. "You can return my shirt when you get off work."
Stark grinned. "Roger that."
*****
Not long after Cam left, Blair set aside her palette and brushes and washed her hands in the work sink tucked into the corner of the loft that served as her studio. Then she lifted the nearby phone and punched in a familiar number. A moment later, a woman answered.
"Hello?"
The whiskey tones were huskier than usual, and Blair smiled fondly. "Don't tell me you just woke you up? Itis the middle of the day, you know?"
"Listen, love, some of us have to work at night."
Blair tossed back her head and laughed again. "Oh, please, Diane. I know the kind of work you do after midnight."
"How do you know that I wasn't busy selling one of your paint
ings?" Diane Bleeker, her business agent and oldest friend, inquired indignantly. "And how do you know that I wassleeping just now?"
"If you were slaving on my behalf, I appreciate it. If you weren't, I'd love to hear all the details."
"Where are you?" Diane asked, beginning to sound awake.
"Back in Manhattan."
"Is everything all right?"
The concern in her friend's voice was genuine. As many times over their fifteen year friendship that they'd disagreed over the direction of each others relationships-or been at odds over the same woman, their deep-rooted affection for one another persisted.
"I'm fine," Blair hastened to assure her. "I wouldn't mind seeing you, though-if yourassociate from last evening isn't still there."
"Well," Diane said as if thinking it over. "Let's say by the time you get here, my calendar will be clear."
"Don't let me rush you."
"Oh my dear, never that. Some things should definitely be savored."
"Is an hour good enough?"
"Perfect. Now, let me get back to what I was about to do. I'll see you soon."
After hanging up, Blair stripped off her soiled clothes and headed toward the shower. On her way, she picked up the bedside phone and dialed another number. It was answered immediately.
"Yes, Ms. Powell?"
"I'm going out in an hour, Mac."
If he were surprised by the advance notice, which was a distinctly unusual phenomenon for the notoriously unpredictable First Daughter, his voice didn't reveal it. "Very well. I'll call for the car."
"That would be fine, thank you, Mac."
Fifty minutes later, dressed in jeans, a white, short-sleeved ribbed cotton top and running shoes, she keyed the penthouse elevator and rode down to the lobby. When the doors opened, Felicia Davis and a small, bespectacled agent, Vince Taylor, a relative newcomer to the team, were waiting for her. She assumed that one of the others was in the car which idled at the curb. It didn't really matter to her, because her mind was elsewhere. She had told Cam she had no intention of discussing their relationship with Lucinda Washburn, but she knew it was only a matter of time before she would need to. The only reason her proclivities had not become a matter of record much sooner was only because she'd never had a serious relationship. It was much easier to remain anonymous when one's love interests were anonymous as well. As she stepped from beneath the awning over the entrance to her building, reporters hurried down the sidewalk toward her, microphones extended and cameras at the ready. Clearly, her days of anonymity were numbered.