Honor Bound

by Radclyffe

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Stark muttered. “I don’t believe I’m hearing this.”

  Cam almost smiled at that. Over the past year, Paula Stark had become the agent closest to Blair Powell. Cam could only imagine how furious she must be to have her professional integrity maligned and her efficiency undercut by people who were supposedly on the same side. She also believed that Stark cared for Blair, and she didn’t think it had anything to do with the night they had spent in bed together. Cam didn’t encourage any kind of personal attachment between her agents and those they guarded, but it privately comforted her. Blair deserved to be cared for.

  “I’m sure members of the task force will be showing up soon to convince you that this is indeed all quite real,” she went on. “Our official policy is one of cooperation.”

  Mac and Stark looked at her expectantly, waiting for her real orders.

  “We are the Secret Service. We are the people assigned to guard her. We are the people with her twenty-four hours a day. This is our ball, our game, our rules,” she said decisively. “Stark, you will choose a replacement to lead the day shift. Until further notice, you are Egret’s primary guard. If at all possible, when she’s outside this building, you will be with her. That means physically within sight of her. You’ll be working split shifts to cover critical times and events, so review her itinerary carefully.”

  It was a tough assignment, and Cam watched Stark closely as she spoke.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Stark said immediately. “Understood.”

  “Mac, we need an agent, not just the video cameras, stationed in the lobby around the clock. The surveillance tapes need to be backed up every twelve, and I want them analyzed for repeat visitors, delivery people, public service crews—anyone who doesn’t live or work here. Run the backgrounds again on everyone with access to floors above the lobby.”

  Mac and Stark were taking notes, but Cam had nothing written down. As she spoke, her gaze was distant, her mind clicking down the list of priorities as automatically as she dressed in the morning. She understood intuitively what few citizens of the United States did: that the illusion that the president and those close to him were untouchable was part of an image of invincibility essential to a world power. Unlike the leaders of many nations, the president of the United States was incredibly accessible. He could go jogging through the streets of Washington, DC; he could stand on an open podium and give a speech; and he could ride a bicycle through the dunes on Martha’s Vineyard with only a few Secret Service agents nearby. He was at risk in ways that few people ever considered, unless, like her, it was their job to know.

  In many ways, Blair’s security was even more critical than his. The presidency was not a man, but an office. If the president were incapacitated, the line of succession was clear. But the president was susceptible to manipulation through his affections. The United States government did not negotiate with terrorists. Would that policy hold if the hostage were the president’s daughter?

  For an instant, Cam remembered waking with Blair in Diane’s apartment, of holding her while she slept, naked and warm in her arms. All Blair’s fury and fierceness had quieted in slumber, and Cam shivered inwardly at the image of her vulnerability. Not Blair. Not on my watch. Not ever.

  She cleared her throat and picked up where she had left off with barely a moment’s hesitation. “Her mail needs to be visually inspected before she picks it up. Any package, any delivery of any kind, requires verification of its point of origin before it goes to her, including ID checks for all delivery people. I’ll arrange for a portable x-ray machine to be set up downstairs.”

  She took a breath and began to relax for the first time in days. It felt good to be in charge and comforting to know that the right people were providing Blair’s safety.

  “Mac, advise Finch I want to review all the data we accumulated on Loverboy’s initial contacts last winter—including the building sweeps around the park. Those will need to be repeated. We’ll go over the rest of the details with the team later today.” Finally she asked the question she had avoided thinking about since she’d awakened at 0500 after a few hours of restless sleep. “I’ll need a special briefing this morning with Ms. Powell. Is she on site?”

  “No,” Mac said carefully. “Grant checked in at 0600. She requested relief for continued surveillance at an off-site location.”

  She didn’t come home. Cam had to work to ignore the swift surge of pain, but she said without inflection, “Right. See to it, then. I’d like a full report ASAP.”

  After Mac and Stark left the room, she finally sat, rested her face in her hands, and tried to dispel the image of Blair in the arms of another woman.

  Diane Bleeker eyed Blair speculatively across the small glass-topped table in her breakfast alcove. Watching her friend start on her second cup of coffee, she decided it might be safe to try conversation.

  “Are you going to tell me why Roberts is your head spooky again?” she asked offhandedly, reaching for a croissant and hoping that she would live to eat it.

  Blair looked up from the cup she had been mindlessly staring into, searching Diane’s face for some hint of the motive behind the question. She wasn’t up to verbal sparring at the moment. She definitely wasn’t up to hearing Diane talk about how much she’d like to get Cameron Roberts into bed. It had never been enjoyable to hear, but now it actually hurt.

  She didn’t think Cam would be susceptible to Diane’s brand of casual seduction, but she wasn’t entirely certain. Diane was very beautiful, and Cam gave no hint of entertaining celibacy. All you had to do was look at her to sense her sexual energy. Blair recalled the rumor her contact in the FBI had recounted to her about Cam’s secret lover in DC. For all she knew, Cam might still be involved with someone there. She didn’t want to think about that, not when she couldn’t get the feel of Cam’s hands out of her mind. But Diane merely regarded her solemnly, patiently, without the slightest hint of confrontation. Friends, then, for the moment.

  “Why?” Blair asked, trying not to snarl.

  Not too bad. She didn’t throw anything. “Because I got the distinct impression that while I was in Europe you made good use of my apartment, and I presumed you were with her.”

  Diane had seen the way the two of them had looked at one another for weeks before the shooting—as if they were struggling not to jump on each other and start tearing off clothes. And she’d seen Blair frantic with worry those first few days after Cam was wounded.

  Even while the Secret Service agent was recovering and Blair had no contact with her, Diane had seen a change. Her notoriously restless friend hadn’t been out hunting for a one-night stand in months. And then the use of her apartment—Blair must have wanted to be with someone very badly if she’d arranged to spend more than a night together somewhere. Since the president’s daughter couldn’t bring a woman to her own apartment right under the nose of the Secret Service, she had at least found some privacy here.

  “It was her you brought up here, wasn’t it?”

  Blair just nodded, absently holding the coffee cup raised in front of her. Her mind balked at returning to those brief days and her wild hope of happiness. She wasn’t sure she wanted to remember, not until she stopped aching every time she thought of Cam.

  Diane continued as if she hadn’t seen Blair’s haunted expression. “Then we crossed in the air, and by the time I got back from Europe, you were off to China. I never did hear the juicy details. The next thing I know, we’re sitting in a café, Roberts is across the room watching you on full spooky status again, and you’re a mess.”

  “I’m fine,” Blair responded, but her hands trembled slightly as she set the cup down.

  In the past three days, she’d begun to wonder if she hadn’t dreamed those five nights in June. Five nights, and then Cam had returned to Washington for her new posting as a regional director in the investigative division. They’d both expected it to be weeks before they saw one another again. Blair had the China trip with her f
ather, and Cam would be in the field soon. She might have believed it a dream, she supposed, if her skin didn’t still tingle with the memory of their last morning together.

  When she awoke, she was alone. The shower was running in the adjoining bathroom. She turned on her side, toward the empty space beside her, imagining she could still feel the heat of her, still smell her—rich and dark and powerfully enticing. Her stomach tightened, and she lingered for a moment, eyes closed, remembering.

  She drifted, pleasantly aroused, replaying the feel of Cam’s fingertips along her thigh when warm lips brushed over her ear.

  “Are you awake?”

  “Mmm.” She smiled, stretching under the light sheet that was still twisted from their passion the night before. “In some places.”

  “I was going to get breakfast.” Cam leaned closer to kiss the sensitive spot at the base of her neck. “There’s a service elevator in the building, isn’t there? No need to announce my presence to whoever’s on shift now.”

  Blair turned over on her back and was struck—as she always was when she saw her—by a surge of pure physical longing. Already her skin tingled. She grasped Cam’s hair in one hand, tugging her down for a kiss, meaning only to say good morning. But she wasn’t used to the feel of her lips yet, didn’t think she’d ever get used to them. Firm and hot and wonderfully responsive. The first meeting of smooth warm flesh became a light bite and then a serious exploration as she sucked and licked and tasted, afraid she might starve if she couldn’t have more.

  “God,” she gasped when she finally dropped back to the pillow, her fingers still wrapped in Cam’s thick hair. “I’m hungry.”

  Cam was breathing hard, and her charcoal eyes burned as she looked down at Blair. She ran a finger between Blair’s breasts and her fine mouth curled into a smile at one corner. “Why don’t I think it’s bagels you’re talking about?”

  “I can have bagels any day,” Blair managed, the muscles in her stomach twitching as Cam stroked slowly lower.

  She arched under Cam’s touch, her hips lifting of their own accord. Heat burst between her legs like a bonfire that had smoldered for hours, then roared to life on a whisper of wind. She hadn’t wanted anyone to touch her in so long, and now she couldn’t stop wanting it. She couldn’t think, was afraid to think. God, she was losing her mind.

  “You have far too many clothes on,” Blair whispered, reaching for the buttons on Cam’s shirt, needing to distract her, because if Cam moved any lower and touched her just once, she would lose it.

  Her nerve endings were already screaming for satisfaction, and it would be over far too quickly. That was something else she was afraid to think about. She had absolutely no control over her body with this woman. She’d made love to countless strangers, but the encounters had never touched her inside. She’d walked away barely aroused, but with Cam—one slow smile, one brief caress, and she was wet and ready.

  “You’re not helping,” Blair half moaned as Cam’s hands slid upward from her belly, cupping her breasts, her gifted fingers rubbing over taut nipples.

  “Oh yes,” Cam murmured, her voice heavy and smooth, “I am.”

  Blair lost patience and pulled the last button off Cam’s shirt, then pushed it roughly down her arms. “Get your clothes off,” she ordered, having trouble catching her breath. Her blood was boiling, and a terrible pressure pounded along her spine. She’d come without Cam touching her if she weren’t careful.

  “Cam, please,” she pleaded before she could stop herself.

  Something in her voice must have penetrated Cam’s awareness, because suddenly she stood and threw off the shirt, her hands fumbling with the buttons on her jeans.

  “Hold on to it,” Cam urged, her breathing ragged, as she stepped out of her pants and reached over to fling the sheet off Blair’s body in one motion. She moved over her, naked now, and slipped one long, lean thigh between Blair’s legs, sighing as their flesh met. They were both so wet, and the moisture flowed along their skin, fusing them.

  “You are so beautiful,” Cam whispered, both hands framing Blair’s face. Holding Blair’s gaze, she began a steady rhythm with her hips, pressing into her, then away, then down again, harder, faster, each thrust working them both a little higher.

  “You’re making me crazy,” Blair cried brokenly, biting her lip, struggling to ignore those first spasms deep inside. It was torture. She wanted to come instantly; she wanted it never to end. “What are you doing to me?”

  “I’m going to make you come,” Cam said, her voice hoarse, her eyes dimming with desire. She shivered, made a choking sound, and her lids flickered closed for an instant. “Ah, God. If...I...can last.”

  Blair, arms tight around her, back arched, trembled on the brink of dissolving and stared up into those dark, wild eyes, so close now—wanting to believe. “I lo—”

  With her last shred of control, she stopped herself—too many years of guarding her secrets and hiding her fears stood in the way of the words. Running her hands along Cam’s back, she found her hips, pulled her closer. “Take me away,” she whispered into Cam’s neck.

  And Cam did. She brought one hand between them and grasped Blair’s nipple, squeezing hard, timing it to the rhythm of her hips. Blair cried out as Cam jerked violently with the first rush of her own orgasm, and then they were shuddering in each other’s arms, lost, and finally...found.

  Drained by the memories, Blair stared at Diane as if she’d never seen her before.

  “Wherever you just went,” Diane commented dryly, “I’d give a lot to visit.”

  Blair laughed, but there was pain in her eyes. She shook her head ruefully. “So would I.”

  “So what happened?” Diane tried to remember the last time she had seen Blair so hurt, and couldn’t.

  With a sigh, Blair said, “She needed to go back to DC, and I had to leave the country. We talked on the phone, planned to meet as soon as we could.”

  She stood, walked to the small window that looked down upon the street. The nondescript black sedan bristling with antennae on the rear trunk that screamed undercover car was still parked opposite the entrance to Diane’s building. She could make out a shadowy figure in the front seat. Probably Stark by now.

  She wondered where Cam was, if she had slept.

  “We knew it would be hard, but I thought...” Her voice trailed off as she recalled their last conversation before parting. I thought we agreed she couldn’t be on my detail. I thought we were going to work out a way to see each other. I thought she cared.

  “So what happened?” Diane asked from behind her, persisting gently.

  Blair didn’t turn, just kept looking off into the perfect spring morning, not seeing a thing. “The next time I saw her, she was at my door...and back on the job.”

  “Just like that?”

  Diane was incredulous. It didn’t seem like Roberts’s style. The agent had always impressed Diane with her regard for Blair’s feelings, even when she was pissing Blair off by insisting that she follow orders. She must have known how devastated Blair would be to be left out of a decision that affected her so personally. Blair’s trust was so fragile, and Cameron Roberts simply didn’t seem that cruel.

  “Yes.” Blair finally left the window, stalked to the counter, grimaced when she found the coffee pot empty. “Just exactly like that.”

  Diane wanted to ask more, but the moment had passed. Blair’s fury had returned, and in a way, Diane preferred it to the pain. At least Blair had learned to survive with her rage. She wondered if Cameron Roberts had any idea how impossible Blair would be to control when she was not only angry, but also wounded.

  Chapter Seven

  “Stark just radioed her position, Commander,” Mac said when Cam walked over to the communications station at Command Central. “Egret is en route to the Aerie.”

  “Good,” Cam responded, glancing at her watch. “It’s almost 1100 hours. I’ll inform her of the security changes at my scheduled 1300 briefing with her. Confirm that
meeting time with her upon arrival, please.”

  “Will do.” He studied her as she stood perusing the monitors, trying to read her mood. He hadn’t missed the undercurrent of strain in her voice, but he supposed it could just be due to the sudden escalation of the situation with Loverboy. Considering the recent revelations concerning the ongoing covert FBI task force, anyone else would have been raging about the outside interference and the infringement on their authority. But she looked just like she always did—calm and controlled. Too calm, maybe. The kind of utter stillness you feel just before the bomb explodes.

  “Page me if you need me before then.” She turned to leave, needing to run off some tension. She had a splitting headache, which she attributed to fitful, uneasy sleep. What she refused to consider was that the pounding ache behind her eyes might be due to the fact that she couldn’t stop wondering if Blair had slept alone the night before.

  “Uh-oh,” Mac muttered as she turned to leave. “This looks like trouble.”

  “What have we got?” She turned back suddenly to the monitors, her heart suddenly racing.

  Her eyes followed his to the central screen that gave a view of the building’s double entrance doors and the doorman’s desk just to one side in the lobby. Taylor, on day shift, could be seen checking the identification of two individuals, one of whom she recognized immediately.

  “Here comes the cavalry.” She muttered an oath under her breath, then rubbed her eyes and sighed. “Contact Stark and tell her I want her up here ASAP. Then bring our visitors back to the conference room. Get someone to take over out here for you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Mac watched the man and woman cross the lobby toward the elevators and fought an almost irresistible urge to stand outside the door of the command center and bare his teeth. The first major battle of the turf war was about to begin.