by Radclyffe
She needed an outlet for her physical frustration and her mental turmoil. Cam’s abrupt return and the sudden change in their relationship had left her reeling. Nothing would test her or distract her as much as being in the ring with someone who could potentially hurt her. She would be forced to focus and she would need to burn. Still, she knew that somewhere nearby, Cam was watching. She couldn’t see her, and she didn’t want to see her. I want to forget her.
But she felt her.
And part of her wanted Cam there, even though she hated to admit how comforting she found the agent’s presence. Cam was so very good at making her feel cared for, even when it was part of her job. From the very beginning, she’d made Blair feel that she was what mattered and not just the status reports or job-performance evaluations that seemed to motivate so many of the dozens of agents who had guarded her throughout her childhood and into adulthood.
God, I hate that I love every single thing about Cameron Roberts.
Blair lifted her gloved hands and tapped them against those of her opponent, eager for the first contact, wanting desperately to erase Cam’s face from her mind.
Cam watched Blair dance lightly across the canvas.
She’s even better than she used to be.
Unlike most male kickboxers, who relied primarily on their punches for knockouts, Blair had to depend more on her legs, which were—as for most women—more powerful weapons than her hands. This gave her the advantage of staying beyond the range of most other fighters’ punches and, with a well-placed kick, she could render a man unconscious. On the other hand, she wouldn’t be able to weather too many direct blows to the face from a man her size or even one smaller. As Cam watched, Blair effectively countered a volley of punches and pushed her opponent back with a nicely executed front kick to his thigh.
As she kept constant vigil of the people nearby in her peripheral vision, Cam allowed herself the luxury of simply looking at Blair. Her hair was pulled back away from her face and gathered at the nape of her neck, the few remaining wild curls secured with a rolled red bandanna tied around her forehead. She wore loose navy shorts and a cropped white T-shirt that left her midriff bare. The small gold ring in her navel glinted against the sweat sheen on her skin.
Watching the muscles ripple in her stomach, Cam stared at the ring and remembered how it felt to rub her palm over it. It was a memory she’d relived many times since that first night they’d shared in Diane’s apartment, and the intensity of the image remained undiminished.
She’d been there close to an hour, waiting for Blair. She tried to kill time reading a magazine from a stack next to the sofa, but she couldn’t concentrate. Too anxious. Too worried about Blair. She knew the agents who followed her to the apartment, and watched the building, would wonder what she was doing at Diane’s. Blair didn’t make a secret of her sexual preferences, at least as far as her security team was concerned, but it was never wise to give anyone too much information of a private nature. And rumors of Blair trysting with a Secret Service agent would make for powerful discussion around the water cooler.
Cam reminded herself that she knew these agents, and she believed in her heart that they could be trusted to be discreet, but the habit of a lifetime of guarding her own secrets was hard to change. And there was more than just their personal privacy involved—there was the little matter of Blair’s very public image. When and if Blair decided to share her private life with the world—because that’s what it would amount to for someone in her position—it should be her choice and not because she had no freedom to chose.
Despite the potential problems, she couldn’t wait to see Blair again. After resisting her for so long, now all she could do was think about her. When she heard the key turn in the lock, she got to her feet and crossed the living room toward the tiny foyer just inside the front door.
Blair stepped through, breathless and smiling, and deposited a bag and a bottle of wine on the small table nearby. For just an instant, she looked shy. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Even that small word was hard to get out around a throat suddenly tight with desire. She thought that she had never seen Blair look quite so young. When Cam kissed her, she meant it only as a kiss of greeting. But they hadn’t seen each other for almost twenty-four hours, and they’d only had one night together then. It had not been enough, and at that moment, it felt like it would never be enough.
One of them groaned, and each began frantically undressing the other right where they stood. Soon, they were pressed together half naked, unable to stop touching each other long enough to finish the job. Hungrily trading kisses and small bites, Cam found Blair’s breasts. She lifted them, squeezing a little harder than she intended as the astonishing thrill of finally touching her drove caution from her mind.
“Oh yes,” Blair gasped, pushing harder into Cam’s hands, working desperately to loosen the buttons on Cam’s jeans. They were both in danger of falling in their eagerness to consume one another.
Finally, Cam wrenched her head back, gasping. “Wait! There must be a bedroom here. I really need to do this lying down.”
Eyes wild with urgency, Blair simply grasped the waistband of Cam’s jeans where she had managed to get the top button open and tugged. “Come on,” she ordered, her voice husky with want. “Guest room. This way.”
Cam followed, slipping one hand around Blair’s body from behind, smoothing her palm over the silky tautness of a bare abdomen. The small gold ring rubbed lightly against her skin, and she didn’t think she’d ever felt anything quite so sexy. She stopped Blair just outside the door to the bedroom, pressing her bare chest to Blair’s back, lifting both hands to cup Blair’s breasts again.
With her lips close to Blair’s ear, she moved her fingers to Blair’s nipples and squeezed. “Yesterday, you made me beg.”
Blair jerked in Cam’s arms, arching into her hands as Cam continued the pressure on her nipples. “Do you have a point, Commander?” She reached back with one hand, searching for the rest of the buttons on Cam’s fly.
“Could be it’s your turn to beg,” Cam whispered, biting lightly at the skin below Blair’s earlobe. She was about to slide her palm down Blair’s stomach when Blair succeeded in opening her jeans and pushed her hand down the front.
“Fuck,” Cam gasped as Blair’s fingers slid through the wet heat between her legs. Her knees nearly buckled as Blair tugged at her. Wrapping her arms around Blair’s body, she pressed her face to Blair’s neck, floating for a moment on a wave of pleasure. Then she stiffened as the persistent pull of Blair’s fingers drew her suddenly to the brink of orgasm.
“Uh-uh. No,” she murmured, stepping back unsteadily, head buzzing with the thunder of blood, forcing Blair to move her hand. Shaking her head, she cleared the mist of arousal from her brain. She took a deep breath, trying hard to ignore the throbbing that began in her belly and thundered through her limbs. “Not so fast.”
“Says who?” Blair turned in her arms and pushed at her jeans, ready to take her on the spot.
“Me.” Cam kissed her again, pulling Blair’s lower lip between her teeth, biting her lightly all the while backing her step by step into the bedroom. She kept her lips firmly on Blair’s and grasped Blair’s wrists, keeping them away. She’d never last if Blair touched her again. She was already twitching with the faint warning tremors of impending orgasm, and it wouldn’t take more than a stroke to send her over.
When they hit the bed and fell backward together, Cam rolled on top, pinning Blair’s hands above her head with both of hers. “Not so fast,” she whispered hoarsely again, just before she caught Blair’s nipple in her teeth.
Blair moaned in surprise and struggled to free her hands, thrusting her hips against the thigh Cam had driven between her legs. “Let me touch you,” she urged in Cam’s ear. “Let me do it fast this time.”
“Soon,” Cam murmured against her breast. It had been so long since she’d touched a woman this way, and she’d wanted Blair so badly for months. She’d deni
ed it when she’d been in charge of her security detail, but she didn’t have to now. “I want you so much.”
Blair’s hands were in her hair when Cam slid between her legs and finally put her mouth on her. Those same fingers opened and closed erratically as Cam sucked and licked and tortured her with her tongue. When Blair pleaded, Cam slipped her fingers inside; and when she begged, Cam moved her hand slowly deeper; and when she cried, Cam let her come, stroking and thrusting and turning gently until every muscle clenched and relaxed a dozen times over.
Then she lay her cheek against the inside of Blair’s thigh, exhausted and content—without a single ounce of regret. But even then, as she listened to Blair’s breathing finally quiet, some part of her knew it was borrowed pleasure, because happiness, most of all, came with a price.
Cam flinched as Blair hit the canvas hard, the memory of that night dissolving in the demands of the moment. Fists clenched, she took one instinctive step forward, then forced herself to stop as she saw Blair get to her feet. Blair swayed unsteadily for an instant, but then seemed to shrug off the effect of the left jab that had caught her in the face, signaling her partner to come ahead again.
Cam watched her carefully for the rest of the bout, which mercifully lasted only another few minutes. She seemed all right as she regained her balance and moved quickly to counter punches, even managing a spectacular leg sweep that put her opponent flat on his back, winding him for a minute. Still, Cam was happy when she climbed out of the ring and disappeared into the back of the gym.
When she emerged in a dry T-shirt, ready to leave, Cam joined her. “Nice fight,” she said, relieved to see that Blair’s eyes were clear and her gait steady.
Blair shrugged, smiling faintly. “I didn’t exactly beat the crap out of him, though.”
“Close enough.” Before she could stop herself, Cam raised her hand and brushed her thumb across a bruise beginning to form on Blair’s cheek where his glove had landed. “Maybe you should wear a helmet next time, Ms. Powell,” she said softly.
Blair’s eyes widened at the gentle caress. The touch was so tender it reached deeper than desire. Unable to take her eyes from Cam’s penetrating gaze, she whispered, “I’ll take that under advisement, Commander.”
“Good. Because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Yes, I know. That’s your job.”
There was no resentment in her voice, and Cam smiled, unexpectedly comforted by the first moments without anger they had shared all day. “That’s part of it.”
“Let’s not go there again.” Blair regarded her steadily. “You can tell your team to relax. I’m going home.”
Chapter Four
Shortly before seven that night, Cam stepped into Command Central and walked wearily toward her desk in the far corner of the room. She had finally finished the briefing with Blair that had been scheduled for earlier that day. The first daughter had been cordial but cool as they reviewed her official activities for the next ten days; when Cam asked her about any personal engagements, she merely smiled thinly and said she had none.
Cam admitted to herself that she had probably appeared more abrupt than she’d meant to be, too. It was hard seeing Blair after a six-week absence with everything between them suddenly in chaos. This wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she had imagined their reunion.
Sighing, she looked at a stack of memos along with a binder filled with field reports that Mac had left for her covering the time that he had been in charge during her medical leave. Just as she sat down and pulled the pile of papers toward her, Paula Stark stepped up to the side of her desk.
“Excuse me, Commander,” Stark said, her spine stiff and her tone formal. The only thing missing was a salute.
Cam looked up distractedly. “What is it, Stark? Problem?”
“No, ma’am. I want to apologize for the breakdown in security earlier this afternoon. I take full responsibility.”
Cam leaned back in her chair, studying Paula Stark’s serious countenance. Five months ago, Stark had made what might have been the biggest mistake of her career. She had allowed Blair Powell to seduce her. That one night compromised her professionally and should have led to her transfer or even her dismissal from the service. But Stark had done something unusual.
She’d come to Cam immediately and accepted responsibility without excuse. She’d given her word that it would never happen again, and as far as Cam knew, it hadn’t. Cam didn’t think about whether Stark still had feelings for Blair. That was none of her business. What had happened today, however, was very much her business.
“Stark, with this kind of detail, apologies are neither acceptable nor sufficient. You are in charge of the day shift, and that means if something goes wrong, it’s on you.”
The agent’s eyes widened slightly, but she merely said, “Yes, ma’am. I understand that.”
“Then ask yourself what you missed today. Egret can be very difficult to predict. I told the team once before, and it bears repeating, that the safest course of action is to assume that she is an uncooperative subject. That means you have to plan for the unexpected movement. I’d say you got lazy today, and you got lucky. If I hadn’t been walking across the street and seen her climb into that cab, you would have lost her.”
Lost her. Stark’s stomach clenched. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Think about that, Stark. Go the next step.”
Remembering the sick feeling she’d had that morning when she’d watched on the monitor as Egret walked right past the front desk and out the door, all Stark could do was nod. What if they had lost her, and then something had happened—a kidnapping, or assault, or something as simple as an overeager autograph seeker forcing her off the curb into traffic? God. We’ve all been lulled into a false sense of security the past few months because it seemed as if Egret was calming down. She hasn’t eluded us for so long, we have gotten lazy.
Cam suppressed a smile. Stark looked as if she were headed for the guillotine. “You’re a good agent,” she told her. “And you’re a valuable agent, because there are places that you can go with her that no one else can. Be careful, be vigilant, be alert. That’s all.”
Stark realized that the commander had already turned back to her paperwork as she replied, “Thank you very much.”
An hour later, Cam had finished going over most of the documents and put aside the ones that needed more attention. She just couldn’t read anymore. She’d left Florida the night before at midnight and had gotten no sleep for over thirty-six hours. Ordinarily, that wouldn’t bother her nearly as much as it did at the moment, but the stress of seeing Blair again under such difficult circumstances had taken a toll.
She was tired, and she was lonely. She stood, stretched, and headed for the door. She wanted a drink and to go to bed.
Just as she was about to step out the door, Fielding, one of the agents assigned to the night shift, called out to her. “Phone call for you, Commander.”
She turned, suppressing a sigh, and picked up the nearest phone. “Roberts,” she said sharply, no hint of fatigue in her voice.
“This is Carlisle.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Be in DC tomorrow for a briefing at 0800. We’ll convene in the conference room at my office.”
Cam was instantly alert, her exhaustion fleeing as her suspicions were aroused. This kind of request was unusual. The call came too close on the heels of the abrupt order reassigning her to Blair’s security detail. She didn’t believe in coincidences. Something serious was going on, and it had to involve Blair if her supervisor was summoning her to Washington.
“I need to know if I should institute heightened security in regards to Egret, sir.”
A moment of silence confirmed her suspicions. There was an information blackout and it involved Blair. Out of habit, she checked the monitors, which revealed closed-circuit video images of the entire building—every entrance, the parking garage, the elevators, the hallway outside of Blair’s apartment. She a
lmost expected to see someone launching an assault.
“There’s no need for any special action at your end,” Carlisle said gruffly. “Just be at the meeting, Roberts.”
At 0750, Cam walked down the deserted corridor outside Stewart Carlisle’s office. Some of the rooms in the warren of offices that opened off the industrial-tiled hallway were already occupied, but many doors were still shut, awaiting secretaries and staff to arrive for the workday. She pushed open the door stenciled with the word “Conference” and stepped into another of the generic rooms that seemed common to all government buildings. She nodded to the redhead, a woman she had never seen before, already seated at the table.
A long rectangular conference table crowded the center of the room, surrounded by a number of straight-backed chairs. A coffee caddy stood in one corner. She moved around the end of the table, helped herself to coffee, and settled into a chair opposite the woman who was reading a stack of papers she appeared to have taken from the open briefcase beside her. Neither of them acknowledged the other beyond their first neutral nods, leaving the introductions to whoever would be running the meeting.
Over the course of the next ten minutes, the door opened three times, each time admitting a man dressed in the regulation garb of a government agent. Navy blue blazers, gray flannel trousers, white shirts, and rep ties abounded in the Department of the Treasury building as well as the headquarters of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and every other security agency on Capitol Hill.
The last person to enter was Cam’s direct supervisor, Stewart Carlisle. They had known each other for over a decade and were probably as close to friends as it was possible to be in this kind of environment. Each understood that, regardless of personal feelings or individual considerations, the system they served had the ultimate power and, like all governments, was not immune to error. Error that sometimes destroyed careers and lives. They also both believed that, however flawed, it was probably the best model currently available.