Love And Honor

by Radclyffe

  “You have to go.”

  “No, I don’t. It’s a public relations trip and there are plenty of other people my father or rather, Lucinda, can tap to make nice to the French President and whoever else needs to be stroked. It doesn’t have to be me, and it’s not going to be me, not unless you go as my security chief.”

  Cam raised an eyebrow. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you nearly freeze me out a month ago after I took the reassignment as your security chief?”

  “That was different,” Blair said calmly. “That was your choice, and you made it without my input. You were wrong.”

  Momentarily, Cam was silent, and then she said, “You’re right. You were right then, too. I’m sorry.”

  Blair found Cam’s hand and squeezed it. “I know. And it’s over. This is something entirely different. You are being targeted, and by someone who has a personal agenda. If not Doyle directly, then someone who Doyle or one of his friends is twisting too. It’s wrong, and I won’t let that happen. I won’t be a willing party to this kind of political terrorism.”

  “Have I mentioned lately that I love you?” Cam asked, her throat tight again, not with want this time but with gratitude and wonder.

  “You mentioned it. In fact, you just showed me.”

  “I don’t know at this point that there’s anything we can do to stop my suspension.”

  “Does this new information about Doyle help at all?”

  Cam shook her head. “It explains some things, but I don’t think it gives us any particular ammunition. Now I know why Doyle has always had it in for me, and in all likelihood he’s the one who ordered the surveillance of you and me in San Francisco. That’s got Bureau written all over it. I doubt that he’s the only one behind the investigation into the escort service, though. And if we’re going to fight back, we need to know the power behind the entire operation.”

  “I want to come with you tomorrow when you go to Treasu—”

  She was interrupted by the ringing of the phone.

  Leaning on her side, she fumbled with one hand on the end table until she found the receiver. “Blair Powell,” she said abruptly. After a second, she continued, “Yes… no, it’s fine…come up now.”

  She set down the phone and sat up on the sofa, rapidly buttoning her shirt. Reaching for her jeans, she said, “Time to get yourself together, Commander. The troops are returning.”

  ———

  “Felicia has something,” Mac said before the door had closed behind him and Felicia.

  Felicia, who managed to retain her composed, elegant appearance despite having worked more than 15 hours, smiled back at his obvious excitement. “I’ve narrowed down the origin of the emails,” she explained as she and Mac walked to the sofas and the four of them sat down, Mac and Felicia facing Cam and Blair across the coffee table.

  “Where?” Cam asked, trying to ignore the first flutter of hope in her chest.

  “I’ve got bundled transmissions from the Bureau director, the deputy attorney general’s office in Justice, and two Senate committees.”

  “Which committees?” Blair asked sharply.

  “Intelligence and Arms.”

  “Specifics?” Cam probed.

  “Unfortunately, no,” Felicia replied. “I can’t narrow down individuals because I’ve essentially got to search every file.”

  “How long?” Cam inquired, her face grim.

  “I don’t know. I could get lucky and hit right away, or it could take… days.”

  It’s over. Cam straightened, tapping her palms on her thighs briskly. “Well, that’s it then. I’d say you’ve done about all you can do. I appreciate your efforts.”

  Glancing at Mac, studiously avoiding Blair’s piercing gaze, she said, “I’ll need to review the details of the transition with you, Mac, before you take over.”

  “Commander,” he protested.

  “It’s got to be done, Mac.” She glanced at her watch. It was 11:15 p.m. “We’re out of time.”

  “What about Stark and Savard?” Blair interrupted. “Have they turned up anything else in the background checks?”

  “No, and neither have I.” Mac shook his head dispiritedly. “They’ve pretty much cleared Fielding, which we expected. I ran down everything I could think of on the reporter in Chicago. I can’t find a link.”

  “There must be something there, Mac,” Blair insisted. “What about his friends or associates?”

  “It would take too long to run that kind of search, and I calculated the yield would be too low.” He slipped his PDA from his shirt pocket and tapped through several items. “The guy’s clean. Married, couple of little kids. Freelances out of Chicago.”

  “What about his wife?” Cam asked. “Anything there?”

  Mack shook his head, reading from the screen. “Not that I can see. They were married four years ago. Wife Patricia, maiden name Carpenter, educated—”

  “Patty Carpenter? College at Amherst?”

  Mac’s head snapped up. “That’s right.”

  “God,” Blair breathed. It was her turn to stand and pace. She walked from the group to the windows, needing a semblance of space and air. Even the huge loft seemed suddenly too small. As she considered the new information, she ran her fingers over the double-paned bullet proof glass. She was beginning to see how all of this had come about, but what to do about it wasn’t as simple as she had imagined it would be. Knowing did not make the solution all that easy. She jumped, startled, when Cam came to her side.

  “What is it?”

  “I know her. And I think I know how her husband came to have that photograph of us.”

  “But?” Cam asked gently, sensing Blair’s struggle.

  Blair took a deep breath and turned to search Cam’s eyes. They were tender, patient, giving her time to decide. And in the deep, uncompromising love she found there, she found her answers.

  “But nothing, really. Your reputation, your career, is at risk here. Our relationship is at least in danger of being interrupted by negative publicity and pressure from any number of quarters. I can’t let that happen.”

  “It’s a friend, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Blair sighed, resting her palm on Cam’s chest, her fingers gently stroking, “it’s a friend. And you’re my lover.”

  “Blair, we can find a way through this. I don’t want you to betray—”

  “Cameron,” Blair said with a fond shake of her head. “When are you going to learn that you are the one thing that matters more to me than anything in this world?”

  Without waiting for Cam’s answer, she walked back to Felicia and Mac, who were pointedly not looking in their direction.

  “Mac, try cross-referencing those two committees with the name Gerald Wallace.”

  Mac’s eyebrows flew up, and even Felicia’s normally calm countenance registered surprise. “ Senator Wallace?”

  “Yes,” Blair said.

  “With a name to follow,” Felicia commented as she stood, smoothing the lines of her skirt over long slender thighs, “I might have something for you within a few hours.”

  “Senator Wallace,” Mac repeated. “There’s been a low level hum for months that hell challenge your father for the nomination. Jesus Christ, this is going to get ugly.”

  Cam moved to Blair’s side, and rested her fingers lightly on the back of Blair’s hand. “Let’s try to see that it doesn’t. Keep this totally under wraps. Advise Stark and Savard, but nothing gets written down. Reset the hard drives, and only one hardcopy to me along with all the disks,” she advised.

  “I can guarantee our security here,” Felicia said without hesitation.

  “Good. I’ll be here when you have something.”

  The two agents nodded and departed. Cam turned to Blair and said, “Can you tell me now what’s going on?”

  Blair sat heavily on the sofa, extending one hand for Cam to join her. When they were both settled, facing one another, Blair said quietly, “Gerald Wallace is AJ’s father.”


  “Ah—and how did you make the connection?”

  “Patty and AJ were roommates at Amherst. That’s why she used Patty’s husband—because he would hold off on a follow-up story if AJ asked him to, whereas any other reporter would have kept digging.”

  “It fits,” Cam mused. “That explains why the media interest in you has been pretty low-key, too, despite that one photo in the Star. There hasn’t been anything else to chase.” She grimaced. “Of course, they’ll still want their story.”

  “That explains why AJ didn’t call me, too. She warned me in the only way she could without betraying her father. I doubt that she ever thought we would figure it out and uncover his involvement.”

  “Christ, if Justice and the Bureau and Wallace have been colluding to covertly investigate political figures on the Hill, including the president, it’s going to be a scandal of major proportions.”

  “And if it comes out that AJ was the leak, she’s going to lose her job.” Blair tightened her grip on Cam’s hand. “I don’t want that to happen, Cam. She was trying to help me. I can imagine how hard it must’ve been for her to send me information when it endangered her father’s career. I can’t turn around and destroy her’s.”

  “It might be better if we just did nothing,” Cam said resignedly. “I can weather a Justice inquiry.”

  “Not if the cards are stacked against you,” Blair protested. “You know and I know and everyone involved knows that your actions were perfectly appropriate during the entire Loverboy operation. But if Doyle has enough pull to get you investigated, who knows what the outcome might be? We can’t chance that.”

  “But if it means we can avoid creating a public scandal that might extend even further than we imagine, I’ll chance it.” Cam ran the hand that was not clasping Blair’s over her face. “I have a responsibility to the Agency, to the system, and I don’t want to put it on public trial for my own personal benefit. I’m willing to risk the inquiry.”

  “Well, I’m not,” Blair said softly, lifting her free hand to run it through Cam’s hair. “Not when it’s you. Besides, it’s not just a Justice inquiry. God knows what they’re going to do with the information about you and the escort service, or how they might try to link me to it.”

  “If I can get hard facts, I’ll go to Carlisle before Justice convenes tomorrow,” Cam said, thinking aloud. “It’s possible with that kind of ammunition he can stop the inquiry before it becomes a matter of record. I’m not sure yet what we can do about the rest of it.”

  “I might have some ideas,” Blair said.

  “I don’t suppose there’s any chance that I can talk you into staying out of this, is there?”

  Blair smiled softly and kissed her. When she drew back, she said, “Not a chance in hell.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Blair’s bed faced the floor-to-ceiling windows, and from the top floor, all Cam could see was the moon and the shadows of buildings across the square. Blair was curled around her, her head on Cam’s shoulder, one arm and leg thrown over Cam’s body. Resting her cheek against the silken softness of Blair’s hair, Cam breathed her scent and softly stroked the curve of her hip and listened to her even breathing as she slept.

  They’d made love quickly, not because of time, but because of need. Their kisses had been ferocious, their hands greedy, their bodies aflame. When they’d climaxed, it has been as much with hunger as release.

  Lying there with her, realizing it was one of the very few times they had ever spent even part of the night together, Cam struggled with the anguish of knowing that it might be a long time before she would hold her again. Despite the hope that her colleagues and friends would find some concrete evidence that she could use as a bargaining chip with Carlisle, she despaired that she would be able to change what had already been set in motion. Thinking about Doyle and his deeply harbored animosity over a relationship that was long dead and his jealousy over a woman who had left him long before she died as well, Cam struggled to keep the regrets and remorse over Janet’s death buried. She knew Blair was right—that it wasn’t her fault or even her responsibility—but she couldn’t stop remembering the disappointment that had flickered in Janet’s eyes just before the life left them. Now she might lose another woman, a woman whom she knew she couldn’t live without, and she felt the dams crack.

  Blair stirred and whispered, “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Cam managed, wondering why her throat felt so tight.

  Blair ran her fingers over Cam’s face and drew a sharp breath. Her hand came away wet with tears. Stunned, heart aching, she pushed herself up in bed and gathered Cam into her arms. “It’s all right,” she murmured, holding her tightly, rocking her without even thinking about it. “Tell me?”

  When Cam tried to answer, her voice broke on a sob. For so many months before Blair had come into her life, she had kept the pain at bay by immersing herself in work and unemotional sex. Now, when she had finally found happiness, the peace was threatened by forces she did not know how to fight. She was breaking, and she didn’t know how to stop it. Desperate, she clung to Blair and fought for breath.

  For the first time in her life, Blair understood that the essence of love was the solace that one gave in the dark of the night when the terror and uncertainty and ghosts of old heartache were the strongest. Holding her lover in a grip so firm it might have been painful if it hadn’t been so essential, she whispered fiercely, “I love you, baby. I love you.”

  Eventually, Cam’s head cleared and the fist that had squeezed the air from her lungs and threatened to stop the blood in her veins relinquished its hold, and she pushed away onto her back, gasping. “God, I’m sorry. I have no idea what happened.”

  “Are you all right?” Blair murmured, her own breath tight in her chest. Blindly, she found Cam’s hand and squeezed.

  “Yes. Just a nightmare—the kind you have when you’re awake.”

  “I’ve had them,” Blair said quietly. “You make them stop.”

  “So do you.” Cam turned on her side and brushed her fingers over Blair’s face, stroking her neck and shoulders. “Thank you.”

  When they kissed, it was with thanks as well as desire. Cam shifted until her thigh nestled between Blair’s legs and groaned faintly as Blair pressed into her. “I need you, Blair.”

  As she leaned down to kiss her again, the phone rang. Cam pulled away, cursing.

  “Easy, lover.” Blair patted Cam’s cheek and laughed a little unsteadily. “Ordinarily I’d ignore it, but I think we’d better answer that.”

  “I take a rain check then,” Cam whispered and kissed her quickly.

  “You bet you will.”

  Reluctantly, Cam moved away and Blair reached for the phone.

  “Blair Powell…give us 10 minutes.”

  Suddenly wide awake, she hung up and pushed back the sheets.

  “Time for a shower, Commander. Felicia says she has what we need.”

  ———

  Lucinda Washburn looked up from the stack of papers and studied Blair unblinkingly. “How many people know about this?”

  Across from her, Blair, dressed in jeans and the light cotton sweater she had traveled in, said, “Five federal agents.”

  “Jesus,” Lucinda muttered. “That’s a security nightmare.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Blair assured her. “No one is going to say anything to anyone.”

  “You trust them all?”

  Blair laughed at the irony, thinking of all they’d been through together. “With my life.”

  “As I understand it,” Lucinda began, rifling through the pages, “one of the senior senators has been gathering intelligence on private citizens and politicians, including the President of the United States, ostensibly to plan campaign strategy and possibly influence lobbyists, voters, and party officials—using federal agents and resources. Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “Pretty much.” Blair shrugged. “I don�
��t really know what his intentions were, but the transmissions we intercepted clearly indicate unofficial surveillance being carried out by some members of the FBI, with that information being routed to Senator Wallace and at least one person at Justice.”

  “And who tipped you to this?”

  “Anonymous.” She would not reveal AJ’s role. She wasn’t even certain that her old friend hadn’t been an active part of the operation, and if she had been, Blair had no desire to see AJ’s career torpedoed. “When the photo of Cam and me leaked to the press, we started digging, and this is what we found.”

  “Pretty lucky,” Lucinda observed wryly, her voice making it clear that she knew there was more to it than Blair was revealing. “As it stands, the use of wire-taps and electronic surveillance in the investigation of private citizens who are not suspected of anything violates any number of federal laws, not to mention the campaign irregularities if Wallace tries to capitalize on any of this.”

  “That’s why I brought it to you,” Blair said quietly. “If it doesn’t involve Dad now, it might next year. And there are plenty of other names in that file who are on his reelection team or who are big supporters.”

  “That’s not all,” Lucinda said, something close to distaste in her voice, as she slid one of the pages from the pile and held it up. “Here we have a list of clients of an escort service. This looks suspiciously like the basis for blackmail, and that’s getting a little far afield from campaign violations.”

  “We don’t know that anyone has actually been blackmailed. Coerced might be a better word.”

  “That’s a fine distinction,” Lucinda pointed out.

  “I know—but if we…uh, you…put an end to this now, it won’t ever reach that point.”

  “The only good thing,” Lucinda remarked dryly, “is that they weren’t particularly selective in their surveillance. We’ve got one federal judge, two Congressmen, and a cabinet member—and they all cross party lines. That will give me leverage on both sides of the fence.”

  Lucinda pushed the papers away, watching Blair carefully as she spoke. “This is serious, but it can all be handled without going public—and I think that’s for the best.”