Honor Reclaimed

by Radclyffe

  "I'm not usually like this," Stark murmured, struggling to keep her voice even. "I'm tougher than this."

  "Oh, I know." Renee's voice was gentle. "It was that tough Secret Service agent I fell in love with the very first day we met." She kissed Paula again, her lips moving with tender insistence over Stark's full, generous mouth. "The one who made it very clear I was on her territory and not altogether welcome."

  "Well," Stark said, grasping Renee's shoulder and pushing her flat on her back. The bullet wound in her upper arm throbbed, but she didn't care. She needed Renee. Just Renee. She followed her over and caught both of Renee's wrists in her hands, pinning her to the bed. "You're on my territory now too. And very welcome."

  "And just how do you intend to stake your claim?" Renee's blue eyes were suddenly filled with questions.

  Stark stopped halfway to the next kiss and searched her lover's face. The last two days had changed everything. A month ago they had talked about a three-week trial of living together. Just to see how it worked out, as if they had all the time in the world. And maybe they still did. And maybe Renee would walk out the door in thirty minutes and never come back. "Maybe we should start with you moving the rest of your stuff into my apartment."

  "Maybe." There was a note of uncharacteristic uncertainty in Renee's voice. "I don't know what's going to happen when I get back to Manhattan. There was no real organization up there after.. .after the Towers. Every available agent was activated, but most of us weren't even working with our regular squads. We were just thrown into it. I got pulled off the Tower investigation almost immediately and sent up to the Aerie because of the attack on Blair. Then, eight hours later, I was reassigned to one of the counterterrorism units and back at Ground Zero. I might not even be in New York City after today."

  "You have to live somewhere." Stark placed a quick kiss on Renee's mouth. She smiled, but her dark eyes were serious. "It doesn't matter where you're stationed, you still need a place to call home."

  "I need...a little time." Renee brushed her fingers over Stark's cheek, then kissed her to soften her words. "It's not about loving you. It's just...these last few days. Sometimes I feel...numb. And then, suddenly, it's like every nerve is screaming." She laughed shakily. "I'm a bit of a mess."

  "You were right there, honey. You were in the South Tower. I can't even imagine how bad that must have been." Stark eased back onto her side and drew Renee into her arms. "And then you worked for two days straight in the middle of all that horror. It's no wonder things feel off."

  "I just don't want to start our life together when I'm not sure I can be totally there."

  Stark's stomach went queasy, but she managed to keep her expression calm. The very thought of Renee going away, leaving her somehow, not loving her, was terrifying. She made the monumental effort to concentrate on what was happening for Renee and to set aside her own fear. Still, she barely managed to hide her hurt, "I love you. We don't have to decide anything right away."

  Renee pressed her face to the curve of Stark's neck. She couldn't see the clock, but she could hear it ticking in her mind. Their time was almost up. She wanted to he close, she wanted to make love, and yet inside, she felt so cold. "Would you mind very much just holding me? Is that all right?"

  "It's more than all right." Stark kissed her forehead and held her tightly. "It's everything."

  *

  The chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the president's national security adviser exited the president's private dining room just as Blair and Cam walked down the hall. Both men nodded to Blair and ignored Cam as they passed. Secret Service agents were no more than background noise in the normal day-to-day life of the first family and were rarely acknowledged as individuals.

  Blair knocked and, at the sound of a deep male voice calling Come in, pushed the heavy walnut door open and entered. Her father sat alone at a white-linen-covered table in the center of the room with a cup of coffee by his right hand and a half-finished omelet on a china plate pushed to one side. A stack of documents rested in front of him.

  "Hi, Dad."

  Andrew Powell, a trim and vigorous fifty-year-old with thick blond hair a shade darker than Blair's, was already dressed for the day in a white shirt and dark trousers. When he removed his reading glasses and smiled at Blair, his cobalt blue eyes were only faintly shadowed with fatigue. He showed no other outward signs of stress. "Hi, honey. Cam."

  "Sir," Cam replied. She was always just a bit startled to see the strong resemblance between her lover and the president of the United States. Automatically, she stopped a few feet inside the door, in the position she would ordinarily take when guarding Blair in a social situation. Far enough away to afford privacy, but close enough to intercept an assailant or interpose her own body between Blair's and any source of danger.

  Blair stopped and turned back with a soft smile. She extended her hand. "Cameron. Let's sit down with my father."

  Cam glanced at the president.

  "There's plenty of coffee," Andrew Powell said, gesturing to the silver carafe. "You two could probably use some." He glanced at his watch. "I have thirty minutes before I'm due in the operations room, and we have some things to talk about."

  Cam and Blair took seats on the opposite side of the table and helped themselves to coffee. Then they waited.

  "Blair," he said, "everything all right?"

  Blair lifted a shoulder. What could she say? I've been assaulted and nearly killed. My lover's been shot. Some lunatics have massacred thousands of people blocks from where I live. The world has gone crazy and I just want to be left alone. "I'm okay, Dad."

  The president studied her a moment longer, then nodded slightly and looked at Cam. "I've been briefed by the directors of both the Secret Service and the FBI about what happened at Blair's on Tuesday morning. I'd like your report."

  "I apologize, sir. I haven't had a chance to prepare that yet."

  Powell shook his head. "I'm not interested in paperwork. I want your opinion. I want to know what you think happened—and I want to know how and why it's possible that someone nearly assassinated my daughter in her own apartment."

  "Dad," Blair said quietly. "Cam isn't respons—"

  Both Cam and the president spoke at once.

  "I am—"

  "She is—"

  The president held up a hand. "There's a difference between being responsible and being at fault." He smiled at Blair. "I have no doubt that Cam guarded you better than anyone else could have. What I need to know now is whether it's going to happen again." He swung his gaze back to Cam. "And how to prevent it."

  Cam nodded gravely. "I agree. I don't have enough information yet to give you a complete report, Mr. President, but I can tell you that four heavily armed men with a knowledge of both the layout of Blair's apartment building and the placement of our agents carried out a well-timed and well-conceived assault." Her eyes never wavered from his. "I can also tell you that at least one of the Secret Service agents on Blair's personal security team was involved."

  "Just one?"

  "I don't know that, sir. But I intend to find out."

  "Gut feeling?"

  "He acted alone. The probability of two rogue agents assigned simultaneously to Blair's team is not impossible, but extremely unlikely. My feeling is that Foster is the key, and that's where our investigation needs to start."

  "Our investigation?" The president's tone was mild but his gaze was intensely focused on Cam's face.

  "I'm not leaving this to anyone else, sir. I spent twelve years in the investigative division of the Secret Service. I know how to uncover and infiltrate clandestine organizations."

  Blair turned in her seat and stared at Cam. "And just when did you decide this?"

  Cam shifted her attention to her lover. "It wasn't something that needed to be decided. The minute they came through that door, it was done."

  For a millisecond, Blair closed her eyes, then snapped them open; her blue eyes were on fire. "You're not doing t
his. We have the entire FBI, the CIA, the National Security Agency, and I don't know what all else to do this kind of thing. It's not going to be you."

  "Sir. You tell her."

  "What?" Blair snapped. She looked at her father, her body rigid. "What?"

  "Honey," Powell said gently. "As your father, you are my number one priority. But the number one priority of the country right now, and therefore my number one priority as president, is to find out what happened in Manhattan on September 11, to bring those responsible to justice, and to ensure that it never happens again. Yes, a team will be appointed to investigate the assault on you. Good people. Dedicated people." He sighed. "But there's going to be pressure from all fronts to deal with the terrorist threat, and that's going to overshadow every other agenda. 1 need someone leading the investigative team who won't be sidetracked by politics—or anything else."

  "Not my lover." Blair's voice was as hard and cold as ice. Her hands trembled and she kept them out of sight beneath the table. "Because I know Cameron. She'll find out who's behind it, and she'll go after them, and this might be the time that she doesn't win." She turned to Cam. "I don't want you to do this."

  Cam's eyes were tender, her voice gentle. "Blair. It's the only way to be sure you're safe."

  "It's the right decision," Andrew Powell added.

  "I don't care about what's right," Blair shouted. "I am sick to death of hearing about what's right, about duty, and responsibility, and fucking justice. I'm tired of giving up everything that matters to me because of someone else's—" Her voice broke and she looked away, covering her eyes with a trembling hand.

  "Hey." Cam slid her chair closer to Blair and wrapped an arm around her shaking shoulders. She brought her mouth close to Blair's ear. "It's all right. The last two days have been hell. We all need a chance to get our bearings again." She kissed Blair's temple, "It's all right."

  Blair pressed her face to Cam's neck, her arm going around Cam's waist underneath her blazer. "I'm sorry. When they were shooting at us, when you and Paula were in front of me and all the bullets—I kept seeing you that morning on the sidewalk in front of my apartment building. I kept seeing the blood and then.. .then you stopped breathing. Oh God, Cam. You stopped breathing."

  "Sweetheart, it's all right. It's all right." Even as she held Blair protectively, her expression grew fierce at the memory of the sick terror she'd felt not knowing if the bullets that passed her by had found their target in her lover's body. She cut her gaze to the president's and said with her eyes what she did not want to say aloud. Not now. Not when Blair was still so raw and the terrifying events of September 11 still so painfully vivid. No one is going to hurt her. I'm going to be sure of that.

  He nodded, knowing that she did not blame him for sparing no one, not even her, to secure Blair's well-being. Knowing instinctively, too, that she would not allow anyone else that sacred charge. She would die for his daughter, not out of duty, but out of love. "Blair, honey. Let's all take a little while to think about it."

  Blair shifted her head on Cam's shoulder and met her father's gaze across the table. "It's already decided. The two of you—you didn't even need to have this discussion because somehow you both already knew what you were going to do. Sometimes I really hate how alike the two of you are." She sighed and straightened. "And I love both of you for it too. So.. .how exactly is this going to work? Because I'm part of this too."

  Chapter Three

  C am crossed her arms and leaned against the door inside Blair's bedroom. She watched in silence as Blair methodically stripped off the T-shirt and jeans she had hastily donned for the meeting with the president.

  "I'm going to take a shower," Blair said quietly.

  "Want company?"

  A beat passed before Blair nodded. "Yes."

  Cam shed her clothes, tossed them on the foot of the bed, and followed into the bathroom. Blair was already in the shower, and the glass enclosure was misted with steam. Visible through the haze, the outline of Blair's nude form swayed hypnotically beneath the spray. Cam stood still, holding her breath, watching. There were moments like this when she was overcome with the wonder of having Blair in her life. When she felt the longing and desire so acutely, it was like a pain deep in her chest. If asked, she couldn't have explained what it was about this one woman that settled in th& very heart of her like none other. Blair was beautiful, intelligent, strong and willful and tender, and so many other things that Cam admired. But it was more than that. This thing, love, that she couldn't define or explain, was what shaped so much of what truly mattered in her life.

  Cam gave a start as the shower door slid open and Blair looked out.

  "Darling? What are you doing?"

  "Just thinking." Cam stepped into the shower and closed the door again. She doused her head in the warm spray and flicked the hair back out of her eyes with one hand. She turned to find Blair leaning against the back shower wall observing her. "Are you angry?"

  "You first. What were you thinking about?"

  "Come here." Cam pulled Blair close to her beneath the spray. "You'll get cold."

  "Don't change the subject." Blair wrapped her arms around Cam's neck and slid her wet body against Cam's until they fit together seamlessly, two parts of a whole. "You had this look on your face.. .like something hurt."

  "No," Cam said softly, "nothing like that."

  Blair tightened her fingers in Cam's wet hair and tugged. "You know I won't quit."

  "I know." Smiling, Cam kissed her.

  Blair leaned into the kiss, rolling her hips slowly between Cam's thighs, matching the deep, leisurely strokes of her tongue to the easy rhythm of her body teasing Cam's. "Mmm. Tell."

  "Christ," Cam gasped, lifting her head from the kiss. Her stomach was in knots and her thighs trembled. "You don't play fair."

  The corner of Blair's mouth lifted in a satisfied grin. "Then why take me on?"

  "Because," Cam growled, gripping Blair's upper arms and pushing her against the shower wall, then following with her body hard and fast, pinning her there, "you make me crazy when you get tough."

  Before Blair could answer, Cam's mouth was on hers, hot and hungry, and her hands were everywhere, closing over Blair's breasts, squeezing her nipples, running up the inside of her thighs to cup her sex.

  Blair's hips bucked as fingers glanced over her clitoris and were gone. She hooked one calf around Cam's hips and drove her center against Cam's thigh. She moaned and thrashed her head, and still Cam kept her pinned, plundering her mouth while Blair rode her thigh. Blair felt the orgasm on the verge of careening through her, and she twisted her torso as she pushed away from the wall. She reversed their positions before Cam could stop her. Ignoring the climax that shimmered just beneath her skin, she went down on her knees with the water pounding on her back and sucked Cam's clitoris between her lips. She heard Cam shout, felt her stiffen, and then they were both coming, shuddering and groaning until their trembling limbs could no longer support them and they slid to the floor.

  "God."

  "You were saying?" Blair murmured. She snuggled against Cam's body, her head resting between Cam's breasts.

  Cam's mind was fuzzy and her barriers down. "I was thinking how much I love you and that nothing else in my life matters except that."

  "Why did that look like it hurt?" Blair asked gently.

  "It never hurts unless I think about being without you."

  "Oh no, never." Blair inched closer and tightened her grip around Cam's waist. She pressed her lips to Cam's breast. "Never."

  "Promise?"

  "Promise."

  "Water." With another groan, Cam tried assembling her extremities into some kind of working order. "Water. Cold soon."

  Laughing, Blair got to her knees, then stood with one arm braced against the shower wall. She turned off the water and stared down at her lover. "Why, Commander, I do believe you've been done in."

  "Not so fast." Cam grinned up at her. "That was only a skirmish. There's plenty
of fight left in me."

  Blair extended her hand and tugged when Cam took it, pulling her to her feet. "Let's hope so."

  When they.stepped out and wrapped themselves in towels, Blair leaned her hips against the vanity and regarded Cam seriously. "You know I don't like it. What you're planning to do."

  Cam stopped in the midst of toweling her hair. "I know."

  "Then why do you do it? Since the moment we've met, this job— this duty of yours—has been between us."

  "I know." Cam lifted a thick white robe from the back of the bathroom door and shrugged into it, then passed the matching one to Blair. "There are a lot of reasons. I'm trained to do it. I'm good at it. I have more reason than anyone else in the world to do it right."

  Blair nodded. "All good reasons. But not good enough to put the smallest wedge of anger or resentment between us. I don't like anyone protecting me at the risk of their own life." She held up a hand when she saw Cam about to protest. "I understand that it's necessary. I know what my security means for my father, for the country. I know that, and I've accepted it as best as I can." Her voice trembled, but her eyes were dry and hot and hard. "All my life, Cam. All my life I've accepted it. And now I have you, and I'm supposed to be happy about risking you?" She laughed harshly. "I don't think so."

  "There's one other reason." Cam kept her hands in the pockets of her robe, because she wanted so much to reach out to Blair. She wanted to touch her, stroke her, soothe the hurt she heard beneath the anger. But she didn't, because Blair did not need that now. What she needed was the truth. "I have to do it, because if I leave it to someone else and anything happens to you, it will break me. I would rather be dead than lose you."

  "Oh, Cameron."The anger left Blair's eyes on a wave of tenderness. "I feel the same about you. Can't you understand that?"

  Cam closed the distance between them and caught Blair's face gently between her palms. She kissed her lightly on the mouth. "I do understand, I do. There's a reason I'm your security chief, Blair. It's because I'm good at it. Trust me. Nothing is going to happen to me."