by Radclyffe
"Then we crossed in the air and by the time I got back from Europe, you were off to China. I never heard the juicy details." Diane spoke carefully. Blair's expression was haunted. "The next thing I know we're sitting in a cafe, Roberts is across the room watching you on full spooky status again, and you're a mess."
Blair's 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 both expected it to be weeks before they saw one another again. Blair had the China trip with her father, 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 was drifting, pleasantly aroused, replaying the feel of Cam's fingertips along her thigh when warm lips brushed over her ear.
"Are you awake?"
She smiled, stretching under the light sheet that was still twisted from their passion the night before. "Only in some places."
"I was going to get breakfast," Cam said, leaning 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."
She turned over on her back -- struck as she always was when she saw her -- by a surge of pure physical longing. Her body was already tingling. She rose and grasped Cam's hair in one hand, tugging her down for a kiss. She had only meant to say hello, 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 her, afraid she might die 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 her, her fine mouth curling into a smile at one corner. She ran a finger between Blair's breasts and murmured, "Why don't I think it's bagels you're talking about?"
Blair arched under her touch, the muscles in her stomach twitching as Cam stroked slowly lower. "I can have bagels any day," she managed, her hips lifting of their own accord as 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," she whispered, reaching for the buttons on Cam's shirt. She needed 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 her. She'd made love to countless strangers, but it 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 her 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.
Blair bit her lip, struggled to ignore those first spasms deep inside. "You're making me crazy," she cried brokenly.
"I want to make you come," Cam groaned, 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, trembling on the brink of dissolving, stared up into those dark, wild eyes, so close now, and wanted to believe. "I lo-," she stopped, too many years of guarding her secrets and hiding her fears standing in the way of the words. She ran her hands along Cam's back, found her hips, pulled her closer. "Take me away," she whispered into Cam's neck.
And Cam did. Even as she lost the battle with her own raging senses, 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.
Blair stared at Diane as if she'd never seen her before, drained by the memories.
"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 asked. She tried to remember the last time she had seen Blair so hurt, and couldn't.
Blair pushed back in her chair, running both hands through her hair, sighing. "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 sounded incredulous. It didn't seem like Cam's style. She'd 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 that kind of decision, something that affected her so personally. Blair's trust was so fragile, and Cameron Roberts simply didn't seem that cruel.
Blair finally left the window, stalked to the counter, grimaced when she found the coffee pot empty. "Yes. Just exactly like that."
Diane wanted to ask more, but the moment had passed. Blair's fury had returned, and in a way, Diane much 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 wounded.
Chapter Eleven
"S
tark 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. Would you confirm that meeting time with her upon arrival, please."
"Will do." He studied her as she stood glancing at the monitors, trying to read her mood. He couldn't miss the undercurrent of strain in her voice, but he supposed it could just be due to the sudden escalation of the situation with Lover Boy. 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.
"You can page me if you need me before then," she said, turning to leave. She needed to run off some tension. She had a splitting headache, which she attributed to her uneasy sleep. She didn't want to consider 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.
As she turned to leave, Mac muttered, "Uh oh, this looks like trouble."
She turned back suddenly to the monitors, her heart racing. "What have we got?" She followed his eyes 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 come the cavalry," she complained under her breath. She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath. "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 said as he watched the man and woman cross the lobby toward the elevators. He had 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.
"This is Special Agent Renee Savard," Patrick Doyle said officiously, indicating the woman with him. "She'll be assigned as personal guard to Egret until further notice."
Cam sensed Stark stiffen next to her. She commended her restraint but expected no less of her. She regarded Doyle implacably, happy to see that he was beginning to perspire. Her voice was totally even as she responded, "I have a full complement of experienced agents, Agent Doyle. Agent Stark is currently functioning as Egret's primary guard. I don't need anyone else."
Mac kept his mouth shut, watching the volleys flow back and forth across the table between the two senior agents. It'd been like this for the last thirty minutes, ever since SAC Doyle had arrived to 'inform' the Commander about the reorganization of Egret's security detail. It was clear that Doyle didn't have carte blanche from the security chief in DC, or he just would've walked in and taken command. But he was trying to bully his way to the top anyway. The Commander had been cool and composed and unyielding as stone. She hadn't given one inch, and he thought Doyle was starting to crack from sheer frustration. The guy clearly wasn't used to playing hardball.
"Look, Roberts," Doyle grated, his fists clenched on the stack of folders in front of him, "I can't run the task force effectively without an inside agent."
"You've been running it for months without one," Cam observed mildly, "although, as you say, not particularly effectively." She was still incensed that he had had the arrogance to keep the Secret Service on the outside when Blair was in imminent danger. On the other hand, she needed his intelligence as much as he needed her access. Her game, her rules, however. "I'll be happy to have Agent Savard come on board as a liaison. She cannot, however, function as Egret's security. She's not trained for it, and I don't know her."
Across from her, Doyle flushed. Next to him, the striking coffee- skinned woman lifted piercing blue eyes to Cam's with a flicker of anger. Cam continued, unperturbed. "In return, I expect daily briefings pertaining to any new information you might have."
"Are you suggesting that an FBI agent can't be trusted to secure the President's daughter?" Doyle demanded angrily, half-rising from his seat.
Cam stood, gathering her papers. She glanced at Doyle casually. "I don't knowhow an FBI agent would react if Egret's life were at stake. Ido know how every one of my people would respond. This isn't the time for on-the-job training."
"With respect, Commander," Renee Savard said forcefully, "I am fully prepared to assume responsibility for Egret's safety. I would like the opportunity to carry out my assignment."
Cam studied her, impressed by her composure when it was clear that she was insulted. Still, this wasn't about personal feelings. This was about the willingness of one person to die for another. Secret Service agents were carefully screened and extensively tested to determine their psychological willingness to sacrifice themselves for an individual, or in many cases, an ideology. For better or for worse, this was what it took to do the job they did. The FBI and the Secret Service were not interchangeable, and she would not relax her requirements now, when the possibility of sacrifice was more than probable.
"Your request is duly noted, Agent. However, Agent Stark is primary on Egret's detail. If she can find a way for you to assist her, that's fine. And that's the best I can do for you."
She turned around and walked out, leaving the two Secret Service agents and the two FBI agents measuring one another across the expanse of the conference table.
"I want a close-up look at your surveillance system and an overview of your tactical routines," Doyle finally demanded of Mac, trying to regain some semblance of dominance.
Mac stood politely, taking a page from his commander's book, and said, "I can show you the relay station and the closed-circuit monitors. Right this way." He ignored Doyle's hard stare and his obvious displeasure. He wasn't going to offer any information on their video camera placement, building motion sensors, advance site preparation protocols or anything else without the Commander's clearance.
Stark and Savard sat in silence for a moment. Start considered any number of options, including her preference, which was to stick Savard with Mac in the control room. She was still smarting from the fact that she had been the object of an internal FBI review and had actually been considered a suspect in the shooting that almost killed her commander. She was also struggling with her own guilt over the fact that she had allowed Egret to unwittingly place herself in danger by eluding their surveillance. She needed to make amends, if to no one other than herself, and she wasn't going to miss her opportunity to do that. She didn't want any interference from the FBI.
"I'm not trying to take your job," Savard said, surprising Stark with her bluntness. "I'm just trying to do mine."
Stark blushed, wishing that she were better at hiding her feelings. She envied the Commander her ability to keep all of her feelings inside, something she had not yet learned to do. She regarded the other woman steadily, thinking that she didn't quite fit the standard FBI mold. She wore the requisite navy blue jacket and slacks, with a tailored pale blue shirt and the hint of a bulge over her left hip where her weapon was holstered.Cross draw , Stark thought absently. She was fit looking and projected an air of confidence, but Stark would've expected that as well. What she hadn't expected was the challenge in her intense blue eyes that was surprisingly without malice. She also couldn't help noticing that Savard was beautiful, beautiful in the way that cover models were beautiful, with elegant cheekbones and an exotic expression that suggested the Islands lingered somewhere not far in her background. Stark tried not to think about that as she answered, "My job is to safeguard the President's daughter. I'm not sure what your job is supposed to be."
"My job is to apprehend Lover Boy. Since Egret is what we have in common, I suggest we try to work together."
"I already have a partner," Stark said, but her resistance was w
avering. It was hard not to respond to Renee Savard's compelling directness. "But there's room for a third," she finally relented, "as long as you don't interfere with me doing my job."
Renee Savard studied her opposite number. She envied Paula Stark. It was clear that Stark's formidable commander respected her abilities and awarded her with the appropriate responsibility. She wished very much that she could expect the same from Patrick Doyle, but she certainly didn't count on it. She had to admit, she also liked the way the dark haired, feisty young agent tilted her chin in a faintly aggressive posture as she staked out her territory. Under other circumstances, she might have considered her cute.
"That seems fair to me," Savard said, standing and extending her hand across the table. "Looking forward to working with you, Agent Stark."
Chapter Twelve
"Is Egret in the aerie?" Cam asked the agent who was simultaneously watching a bank of six monitors displaying strategic points throughout the apartment building and running a real-time video of the previous twelve hours that had been captured by the cameras mounted at each corner of the external perimeter. He was able to view foot and vehicular traffic directly in front of the building for any time and from almost any direction he chose.