Love & Honor

At that moment, Mac approached, a folded newspaper under his arm and a grim look on his face.

"What have you got?" Cam asked sharply. To her surprise, Mac blushed.

"UhŠ" He lifted the folded newspaper in his hand and glanced from Cam to Blair and then quickly away. "You might want to look at this in car."

"Let me see it," Blair said, extending her hand. "It's not going to get any better if I wait."

Wordlessly, he handed it to her. The Secret Service agents standing around averted their eyes but did not move from the protective circle they had formed, shielding her from the rest of the terminal.

Cam watched Blair's face as she opened the newspaper and quickly scanned the front page. She couldn't detect the slightest change in Blair's expression. When Blair silently folded the newspaper again and put it and the book she had been carrying under her arm, Cam said abruptly, ³Okay, then. Let's get out of here."

Two of the men walked to be incoming baggage belt and collected everyone's bags, loading them quickly and efficiently onto a wheeled handcart. Within minutes, the team was once again ensconced in yet another pair of Suburbans and heading out of the airport toward the Lincoln Tunnel and Manhattan.

Stark and Davis were in the front while Blair and Cam occupied the rear. The agents who were off-duty had remained at the airport, making separate arrangements for cabs or family to pick them up there.

"Are you all right?" Cam asked. Blair had been silently staring out the window since they had gotten into the vehicle.

Turning to face her, Blair smiled, her face sad in the irregular illumination of passing headlights and flickering neon signs. "I've been waiting for this. I was just sitting here, trying to think how long I've been waiting."

Cam waited but when Blair said no more she simply took the newspaper that Blair passed to her across the space between their seats. She unfolded it and held it toward the window to catch enough light to read it. Prominently displayed below the fold were a picture and the caption, "President's Daughter and Secret Lover?"

In a hazy, night shot a woman who looked very much like Blair could be seen kissing someone, although the other individual's identity was difficult to determine because of the camera angle and the obvious distance from which it had been taken.

"Son of a bitch," Cam whispered. It was a photograph of the two of them on the beach in San Francisco, the first night that Cam had arrived from DC. She raised her eyes to Blair and said quietly, "I'm sorry."

"About what? The kiss or the photograph?"

"Definitely not the kiss."

Blair nodded once, sharply. "Good."

Cam struggled in the poor light to read the short paragraph underneath the picture. It didn't say much -- just the usual titillating inferences about Blair's alleged liaisons with movie stars, underworld kingpins or elected officials that were often linked to Blair in similar publications. Precisely because she was so private, and because the White House tried diligently to keep her out of the public eye unless it was a sanctioned official function, the press loved to conjecture about her love life. Except this time they were getting awfully close to the truth.

"I think it's interesting,² Cam said after a minute, "that they don't name names and they don't specifically state that you are with a woman. Whoever took this photograph must know."

"I noticed that myself," Blair said darkly. "It's almost as if someone is teasing me--or taunting me. What do you make of it?"

"I don't have any idea." Cam shook her head, angry for Blair at the invasion of her privacy and furious at herself for being so careless that she let someone close enough to get the shot. "But what I want to know is where the hell he was and why my people didn't see him."

"Well, I have a feeling this is only the beginning." Blair laughed bitterly. "This is going to be embarrassing for my father, but the big question is, what is this going to do to you professionally if someone recognizes you?"

"I don't think that's the most important thing right now," Cam disagreed. "There's something off about this entire situation, because if this were just some reporter looking to make a story, my name would be in this article. The fact that you are kissing a woman would be the headline--above the fold."

"Blackmail?"

"If it is, they've got more balls than brains. You don't blackmail the daughter of the President of the United States. Not like this--and, goddamn it--not on my watch."

³Well,² Blair said resignedly, suddenly aware of a weariness that went deeper than flesh, ³I¹m sure we¹ll know soon enough.²

Tiredly, she leaned her forehead against the glass, watching the night slide by. The stretch of highway outside the speeding vehicle was barren and seemed to echo the emptiness in her heart. Of course she had been foolish to think that she would be allowed to love anyone in peace, let alone someone like the woman seated across from her. She closed her eyes, knowing that she would sleep alone that night, and wanting more than anything else for that not to be true.

Chapter Fifteen

Cam watched Blair as wordless moments passed. It was the quiet that worried her. Anger she would have expected‹even, considering the circumstances--embraced. Accusations of her own complicity in allowing the photo to be taken, however unfounded, would have been more welcome than the curtain of silence that fell heavily between them.

She tried to imagine how it must feel to have one's most personal experiences on display, not just once, but repeatedly. She couldn't, even though it was her picture in the newspaper as well. Even had her face been clear, and her name printed in bold letters beneath the image, it wouldn't have been the same thing for her as it was for Blair. She wasn't recognized the world over, nor was her family likely to be held up to scrutiny by self-appointed guardians of right and wrong whose true motivation was nothing loftier their own their political gain. She was guilty of nothing, but even if she were, her transgression would soon be forgotten.

That was not the case for Blair Powell or her father. The President was not immune to the effect of public opinion, just the opposite. Right or wrong had nothing to do with the fact that powerful groups jockeyed constantly for position and influence in the Washington political arena. Something as inflammatory as Andrew Powell's daughter's love affair--especially her lesbian love affair--would give his opponents one more piece of ammunition to threaten him with.

"Blair," Cam began gently, "is there anything I can do?"

Finally turning away from the window and the night and her own troubled thoughts, Blair straightened infinitesimally. When she spoke, her voice was stronger, carrying a hint of its old steel. "Yes. You can tell me right now if you're up for what's coming."

"What?" Cam exclaimed, too surprised by the question to even absorb it completely. When the reality of what Blair was asking finally hit her, she replied heatedly, "You can't really think that this would matter to me?"

"It's one thing to talk in the abstract about the possibility of exposure. It's quite another thing to be the center of a media circus. Believe me, I know."

"Jesus Christ."

Cam stared at her as she bit back another irate retort. Blair¹s voice had been calm, steady--her face expressionless. She looked the way she'd looked the first day Cam had met her--cool, controlled, untouchable. Cam remembered very well the angry, wounded woman Blair had been, and how in recent weeks that rage had burned less brightly and the wounds had seemed less raw. Until this.

Christ, she's scared.

That realization defused Cam's anger. Fear was not something she associated with the President¹s daughter, and perhaps for the first time, she understood the price of Blair¹s strength--the isolation and the impenetrable defenses and the expectation of loss.

Quickly, Cam shifted across the narrow space between them until she was sitting on the seat next to Blair. She found her hand in semi-darkness and whispered vehemently, "I intend to find out who is behind this. Once I do, I intend to kick their ass from one side of this continent to the other. I love you. Nothing and no one will ever change that."

Blair tightened her grip on Cam's hand and leaned into the reassuring solidity of her body. "You don't even know yet what kind of pressure there's going to be for us to stop seeing one another."

The words hit Cam in the center of her chest like a sledgehammer. Even being shot hadn't hurt as much. "No. Don't even think it, because it gives the possibility power. Please."

³When you were shot,² Blair said as if reading her thoughts, ³I felt parts of me dying with you.² Her voice was hushed, as if she were speaking in a dream. ³I had only just begun to let you in, and I was nearly lost already. Now, I don¹t think I could survi‹²

³Blair. I love you. I am not going anywhere. I swear.²

Blair searched her eyes and saw only truth. ³It scares me how much I need you.²

³Don¹t forget I need you, too.² Cam lifted Blair¹s hand, brushed a kiss swiftly across the back of her knuckles. ³More than you¹ll ever know.²

³I¹ll try to remember that.² Blair drew the first full breath she¹d taken since the airport. ³So--what do we do now, Commander?²

Cam laughed, but there was an edge to the laughter. ³I¹m a Secret Service agent. Do you think I can¹t track down the little bastard that gave that photo to the wire service?²

³Just be careful, Cam,² Blair warned. ³Someone doesn¹t need a gun to be dangerous. In the right hands, a camera can be lethal.²

³Any coward who chooses this underhanded way of going after you is no threat to me. Don¹t worry.²

³Why don¹t I feel reassured?²

³I¹ll be careful. But this is what I do.²

³I suppose I have to accept the logic of that,² Blair finally conceded. Again she sighed. "I'm surprised I haven't heard from the White House by now. The Chief of Staff must be having kittens all over the West Wing."

"I thought Lucinda Washburn was a personal friend of your family's," Cam said, referring to the woman who most people considered the most powerful woman in Washington. As the first female Chief of Staff, she held the President's ear and served as his most instrumental adviser. When Andrew Powell had run for the presidency, he had made it very clear that no decision would be made without her input. That had proved to be true over the first months of his tenure when economic crises at home and the reemergence of violent foreign unrest had placed his administration in the spotlight.

"Trust me," Blair said without any hint of animosity. "Lucy's number one goal from the day my father was sworn in has been to get him reelected. She's known him since they were in college, and I think she's been working to get him where he is today since then. She'd sacrifice almost anything or anyone to keep him in the White House for a second term."

"And you think that includes forcing you to...what?" Cam asked in frustration. "Give up our relationship?"

"I think Lucy considers relationships expendable if they stand in the way of a higher goal."

"What about your father? Does he feel the same way?"

"I don't know." Blair glanced out the window as they emerged from the Lincoln Tunnel into Manhattan, realizing that they were only moments from her building. "I don't know him well enough to guess. But I don't think it will be very long before we find out."

*****

A few minutes later, the cars pulled up in front of Blair's apartment building, and the occupants of both vehicles began the familiar, choreographed routine of disembarking. Once through the doors and into the small but ornate lobby of the elegant building, Blair hesitated. The elevator was twenty feet away, and Stark had already walked over to it and keyed the single locked car which went to Blair's top floor apartment. Turning her back to the elevator and the agents waiting nearby, Blair faced Cam and said hurriedly in a voice too low for the others to hear, "Is there any way you can stay?"

Cam could only imagine what it cost Blair to ask that. Her eyes swept over the agents waiting to accompany Blair upstairs, several of whom would remain one floor below her apartment in the command center for the remainder of the night shift.

"I want to. You know that don't you?" Cam said, her voice a strained whisper.

Blair's eyes swiftly became unreadable. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"Blair..."

Abruptly, Blair turned and walked directly across the lobby and into the open elevator. Stark followed her in and the doors closed soundlessly behind them.

Turning to Davis and the others, Cam said bitingly, "I'll be on my pager."

"Roger," Felicia Davis replied, her expression carefully neutral.

Cam turned without another word, pushed through the double doors, and was quickly lost to the dark.

Chapter Sixteen

Cam hesitated briefly on the sidewalk. It was two o'clock in the morning. She glanced up and diagonally across the block-wide oasis of trees that comprised Gramercy Park to the building where she lived when in New York City on assignment. The prospect of pacing for several sleepless hours in her utilitarian apartment held little appeal. The prospect of tossing in her solitary bed trying to forget the way Blair had looked walking away from her held even less. Quickly, she walked to the southeast corner of the square and flagged a cab. She gave the cabbie an intersection in the East Village.

Traffic was light in the small hours of the morning in Manhattan, even though there was more activity there at any hour than in any other American city. When she paid the driver and stepped out, there were still people strolling on the sidewalks, and here and there music wafted from the open doors of taverns and all-night restaurants. It was a short walk to her destination, and less than a half an hour after leaving Blair's building, she was seated on a corner barstool in a small, neighborhood bar. The bartender, a hard-bodied, hard-eyed brunette came over almost immediately. The muscles in her well-developed shoulders and upper arms strained the fabric of the tight white T-shirt she wore tucked into faded blue jeans.

"How you doin'?"

"Fine," Cam said. "Glenlivet. Double--straight up."

"Sure thing."

A minute later, Cam was sipping the aged, single malt scotch and trying to make sense of the last few hours.

Hell, the last few days.

She turned the glass aimlessly on the bar top and tried to make sense of a puzzle from which too many pieces were missing. It had started with the debriefing in Washington and Stewart Carlisle's odd capitulation to Doyle¹s bullying threats of an investigation and had culminated with the night's oblique threat to Blair. And then, of course, there was Claire.

She sighed wearily. ³Claire.²

From beside her, a voice softly questioned, "Girlfriend?"

Cam jumped, startled, and that in itself spoke volumes about her muddled state of mind. Or perhaps just her persistent state of fatigue. She turned her eyes to the redhead who had slipped onto the barstool beside her without her even noticing. The woman looked to be in her early twenties, but might be a decade older. Her green eyes were wide and liquid with invitation, and her high, full breasts--shown off to their full advantage in a scoop-necked tank top that exposed plenty of cleavage in addition to the sharp prominences of her nipples--were ripe with promise.

"Has to be a woman to make you look that down," the woman remarked again.

"No." Cam shook her head. "Just thinking."

"If there's something--or someone--you'd like to forget for a few hours, I can think of a couple of interesting ways to help you out."

"No, thanks," Cam said, smiling slightly. "What I need is to think, not forget."

"It never pays to think alone," the redhead said, leaning closer, her fingers pressing lightly on the top of Cam's right hand.

"I'm not alone," Cam said softly.

The woman studied her silently for a moment, then nodded. "Then I'll let you get back to whatever is keeping you up tonight."

With that she moved away and Cam returned to studying her drink. The touch of the stranger's hand had made her think of Claire.

 Claire. Is she a part of this?

Until a few days ago, she had thought that chapter of her life closed.

After she hung up the phone, Cam hurriedly crossed to the bedroom, stripped off the robe, and grabbed for the first thing that was handy. She was just buttoning the fly of her jeans when the doorbell rang. Quickly, she pulled on the T-shirt and opened the door.

³Hello, Claire.²

"I'm sorry," the woman in the hallway began. "I know I shouldn't have come --"

"No. It's all right." Cam extended her hand, and Claire took it. "Come inside."

Claire was dressed as she often was--tasteful evening dress and matching heels, her blond hair in a French twist, her makeup flawless, and her jewelry expensive. She hesitated just inside the door, then dropped her purse onto the mail table in the small foyer. "You look tired. It's late, isn¹t it? God, I should go."

"Come into the living room. Can I get you a drink?"

"Wine, if you have it."

Several minutes later, Cam joined Claire on the sofa in front of the windows where less than thirty minutes before she had been sitting speaking to her lover. She forced the image of Blair from her mind and handed the glass of cabernet to the woman who had made love to her countless times. The lines of stress around Claire's eyes were obvious. "What is it?"

"I've been hearing things from my...colleagues...for the last several weeks. Someone has been asking questions."

Cam frowned. "Someone has been trying to get information out of the...escorts?"

Claire smiled, her blue eyes troubled. "First you must understand--with this establishment, confidentiality is absolutely the most critical service we provide. Every one of us is thoroughly screened‹there are background checks to rival the federal government¹s, known associates are identified, resumes, transcripts--everything ever documented is reviewed. No one gives out information about a client. It just doesn't happen."

"But now you think someone's been talking?"

"I don't know." Claire shook her head. "All I know is that someone, or someones, have certainly been asking questions."

"And why are you telling me?"

"Because they're asking questions about the President."

Cam shrugged. "There have been rumors going around Washington since before he was elected that he uses a...service for his...social needs. That's not news."

"I know," Claire said. "But this is the first time any of us has been approached. For one thing, our names are carefully omitted from any transactions--even on paper. No one has access to our true identities, so it's almost impossible for us to be individually associated with any particular establishment or client. But more than one of us has been questioned about him."

Cam was quiet, considering the information. "Which means that someone may have identified your organization and gotten access to your files."

"Yes. And if that's the case, they might have access to much more than just the escort identities. They may have the client lists."

"Ah, I see." Cam rubbed her forehead with one hand, trying desperately to assuage the pounding headache that was making it difficult for her to think. "Are you here to warn me?"

"Partly, and..."

"What?"

"I know who you are."

"Meaning?" Cam asked quietly.

"Your picture has been on television."

"Yes," Cam acknowledged with a sigh. "I suppose you've known for a long time."

Claire rested her hand on Cam's thigh. It was the first time she had touched her in almost six months. "It's my business not to know who you are. My only responsibility is to know what you need."

The touch of Claire's hand stirred a visceral memory that was as automatic as the awakening of hunger stirred by a familiar smell. For months after Janet's death, Cam had wanted nothing more than the few hours of dreamless sleep that the satisfaction of Claire's caress had given her. Her body had grown used to the stroke of Claire¹s fingers. Cam¹s nerve endings remembered, too, and her breath quickened. Ignoring the sweet stab of unbidden desire, she asked, "Has anyone asked about me specifically?"

"Not that I know of, but I've only heard these rumors from a few people. There may be other things I don't know about yet."

"I'm not sure what I can do with this information, or what I can do about it," Cam said.

"I don't know that there's anything to do, especially if we're as compromised as it seems. But I don't want to see anyone hurt--especially not the President." She lifted her eyes to Cam's, resting her fingers lightly now against her cheek. Her lips were very close to Cam's when she whispered, "Or you."

Cam jerked, as if feeling the warmth of Claire's fingers again. That was a memory she could not afford to ponder. She rubbed her eyes, then quickly downed the rest of her scotch. Tomorrow, she would be with Claire. Then, perhaps, she would find some answers.

*****

Blair turned over in bed and looked at the clock. The red numerals showed it to be shortly after 1:00 a.m. With a sigh, she threw back the light sheet and swung her legs to the floor. Naked, she walked through the moonlit loft and stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the park below. From her vantage point she could see Cam's building, and she knew which were her windows. Her lover's apartment was dark. She knew she shouldn't wake her, because by now, she recognized the subtle signs of pain that Cam would never speak of. The faint deepening of the lines around her eyes and the slight, nearly imperceptible tightening of her shoulders as she shifted her position in a chair. What Cam needed now was to sleep and to heal.

Finally, Blair returned to her bed and sat on the edge, watching flickers of unearthly light dance across the hardwood floor, caught between reason and desire. A very long time ago, she had taught herself not to need the solace of a woman's body in the dark. She never spent the night with anyone she made love to; she never sought the sound of another's voice to console her pain or assuage her fears. She slept alone and she bore her uncertainty and disappointment and loneliness in silence.

Everything had changed when Cam had come into her life.

Almost against her will, she reached for the phone. A minute later, after listening to it ring unanswered, she laid the receiver carefully into its cradle. Then she stretched out on the bed, rolled onto her side, and closed her eyes. It was a long time before her breathing eased into the steady, quiet cadence of sleep.

Chapter Seventeen

Cam shook her head groggily as the alarm droned beside her. She wasn't certain how long it had been buzzing as she slowly emerged from a dreamless sleep to the insistent sound. Stifling another groan, she reached out with one arm and blindly swatted in the direction of the clock. Finally, she succeeded in silencing the din. After another minute, she forced herself upright and headed for the bathroom. With the shower set more to cold than warm, she stepped in and turned her face to the pinpricks of water. It was early, and she wondered if Blair was still asleep. In that one unguarded moment, loneliness crested on a swift stab of pain. Then, just as quickly, she forced it from her consciousness.

****

At precisely 0730, Cam walked into the conference room on the seventh floor of Blair's apartment building, the level directly below Blair¹s and entirely occupied by the Secret Service team. The major portion of the floor was a large open space subdivided by shoulder-high walls into workstations and monitoring areas. In the far corner past a warren of cramped desks was the glass enclosed area which served as the meeting room for Cam and her agents. At the moment, most of the team was present, since the night shift was present to report before going off-duty and the day shift had just arrived to take over the watch. Usually there were one or more swing agents available as well to cover unexpected events or supply double coverage on short notice if needed.

This was the first time the team had convened at Command Central since the night the operation to apprehend Loverboy had nearly ended in disaster. Ellen Grant's absence was conspicuous.

Almost everyone had coffee in some form in front of them, carryout cups from nearby delis a subtle indictment of the office brew that was often hours old. Cam strode to the head of the table and nodded to the men and women facing her. Without preamble, she began.

"I presume all of you have seen the newspaper article from last night. Obviously, we can anticipate increased media attention whenever Egret leaves the building. There's a camera crew on the northeast corner of the square right now."

That statement was met with several groans and a few unflattering comments as to the nature of the Fourth estate.

"That means we can also expect close approach from the press--singly and in groups. Be alert for press credentials and have a very low threshold for containing or diverting anyone who is without the appropriate identification or who encroaches on her personal perimeter. If at all possible, move her quickly from the vehicle to any public venue. We¹ll go to high security status today. We have no reason at this point to think they know about the gym or any of her private appointments. Nevertheless, don't make any assumptions."

Everyone nodded. Then Cam looked to Mac. "I'll be meeting with Egret per usual at 1100 hours. Hopefully, I'll be able to update the weekly schedule with her and pass along that information to you for a more concrete itinerary." Surveying the group again, she added, "Mac will have your schedule assignments then."

"What are we going to do about finding the slimeball who took that picture?" Paula Stark questioned. The righteous indignation in her voice was obvious.

Briefly, Cam wondered how many of her agents knew that she was the person depicted in the photograph kissing the President's daughter.

"For now, nothing," Cam responded bluntly. She almost smiled at the expressions of outrage on the faces of her agents. The fact that they were all ferociously dedicated to Blair pleased her. She raised a hand to stem the questions that were sure to be forthcoming. "I need to brief first with DC. I can tell you this--we're not going to take this lying down."

That statement prompted an assortment of good, for sure and damn rights.

"In addition to routine matters, we need to gear up for the trans-Atlantic trip. I want status reports on my desk by this afternoon as to who will be our liaison in Paris, the itinerary, the report from the security chief at the hotel, an update on all terrorist cells known to be operating in France, with particular emphasis on Paris and its environs, and dossiers on the French security members assigned to every function at which Egret will be present."

"We¹re on that, Commander," Mac assured her. "I'll collate the material we have for you this afternoon."

"Very good." Cam shrugged her shoulders to ease some of the stiffness in her neck and back. "Mac, I'd like to see you, please. The rest of you, carry on."

Once the room had cleared, Cam sat down across from her second in command and briefly rubbed her eyes. Then, she leaned forward and met his steady gaze. "I want to know where that photograph came from. Make some inquiries to the wire services, contact the managing editor of the Post, and dig around at the Intel Ops center in DC. Be discrete if you can, but pull rank if you have to."

Mac, a scrupulous detail man, was conspicuously not taking notes. What she was asking was outside the Agency chain of command, because strictly speaking, someone in DC should coordinate this kind of intelligence gathering with the FBI. But then, the Secret Service did not share intelligence with the FBI, nor ask them for any. "What do we know about specifics--time frame, location?"

For a moment, Cam was silent. Mac would have no reason to know the circumstances under which the image had been captured, and she could keep her part in it under wraps--at least for now. As a Secret Service agent, she was indoctrinated in the policy of silence. One did not discuss a protectee; one did not discuss Agency business with other departments; one did not discuss procedure. Solitary since childhood, circumspect with her own emotional pain--unable and unwilling to add to her mother's agony with her own seemingly inconsequential anguish after the death of her father, she had learned to keep her own counsel. The habits of a lifetime compounded by the requirements of her profession made it difficult for her to disclose anything to anyone, no matter how much she trusted‹or loved--them. The silence in the room grew, a silence during which Mac sat quietly, simply waiting.

"The photograph was taken at approximately 0130 three nights ago on the waterfront in San Francisco."

One blond eyebrow raised, his only sign of surprise, whether at the information or the fact that she knew it, Cam couldn't tell.

"I never got a report that we'd lost her at anytime in San Francisco," he said.

"We didn't."

"Then how did she manage to get away from us long enough for anyone to get that shot?"

His confusion was evident, and she made a decision that in all probability would alter the course of her career forever.

"She didn't leave our sight. The person in the photograph with her is me."

His reaction was not precisely what she had expected.

"Well then, where the fuck were the rest of our people? How in the hell did they let anyone get that close to her. Jesus, talk about a security failure."

Cam shrugged, a rueful grin on her face. "She and I were not directly in their sight line, although they should have had an excellent perimeter view. One thought I had‹after the fact unfortunately--is that he was on one of the nearby piers with a night scope. He could have gotten fairly close to us but probably wouldn't have raised any particular suspicion from the team. They were most likely focusing on foot traffic on the beach."

"Commander, may I speak freely?" Mac asked softly.

"Go ahead, Mac."

He held her eyes as he said firmly, "I consider it my responsibility--the responsibility of the entire team--to protect her not just physically, but from this kind of invasion as well. I know it's not completely possible to deny the press access to her, but dammit, this is something personal. The public has no right to know this. I don't want it to happen again."

"I don't know that we can stop it, Mac," Cam replied. Frustrated, she strafed her hair with a hand. "I'm not even sure I know how to stop it. But someone released this photograph, and I want to know who they are and how they got it. I want to know--" she hesitated, because the next words came hard. Harder than almost anything she had ever said. "I need to know if it came from one of us."

His blue eyes grew dark with pain, but he answered crisply. "Yes, ma'am. If I may, I'd like to look into this personally."

"That might not be looked upon favorably by DC," she warned.

"So noted."

"It's possible I may go down for this, Mac. If I do, I want you in the clear. I need you to take my place. Blair needs you."

"I would not want to be in Egret's path if anyone tries that, Commander."

She smiled. "No, it wouldn't be pretty. Just the same, if it comes to that, I want you to disavow any prior knowledge. We never had this conversation."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you, Mac."

Chapter Eighteen

As Cam stood in the small carpeted foyer between the elevator and the broad oak door to Blair's apartment, she thought of the first time she had come there and how much had changed. She hadn¹t wanted the job, hadn¹t wanted a woman in her life, hadn¹t wanted to feel anything at all. Now all she cared about was on the other side of that door. She raised her hand to knock, but the door opened before her fist met wood.

"Good morning," Blair said.

She wore loose, white cotton drawstring pants and a matching ribbed tank top. Her hair was down and there was a dab of brilliant blue pigment just above her left breast.

"You've been working?" Cam asked. There were circles under her normally vibrant blue eyes, and Cam caught sight of something moving in their depths, something dark and wounded.

"Yes. What else? The antidote for every problem."

Cam stayed on the threshold, waiting to be invited in. "Did you sleep?"

"Some. Did you?"

"Some."

Blair pulled the door open wide and gesture with a sweep of her hand. "Come in. This shouldn't take too long, because I don't have much in the way of plans for the rest of the week. Especially not now."

"Fine." Cam followed her in and trailed behind her to the breakfast bar, puzzling over Blair's odd detachment. It was rare for them to be anywhere alone that Blair did not touch her, however fleetingly. The absence of that small gesture echoed hollowly in her chest.

Blair set out two mugs and poured coffee. She passed one to Cam and leaned her elbows on the counter, one hip edged up on a stool. "Have you heard anything from Washington?"

Cam shook her head, settling on the neighboring stool to face her. "I plan to call Carlisle when we're done here. What about you?"

"Lucinda called just after nine. She was in a rush, because my father was on his way to an economic summit meeting and she was briefing him in the car at the same time as she was talking to me. I believe her precise words were, "Tell me it's someone you can bring home to dinner²."

"Huh," Cam snorted, wondering if she were. What would the President think? "Anything else?"

"Nope. She said she'd get back to me later. That could mean midnight."

"What are you going to tell her?"

"At the moment, I'm going to tell her it's nobody's business. Not even hers."

For the first time, Blair looked and sounded like herself. When she was angry, Cam was certain she was fine.

"I suppose at the moment, that makes sense," Cam said, nodding. She pushed the mug away and reached for Blair's hand, then stiffened when Blair eased back from the counter, just out of touching distance.

Silence fell and finally Cam asked quietly, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Something's happened."

"Are we done here? I'm in the middle of something."

"No, we're not done. Not until you tell me what's happened between now and when we said goodnight eight hours ago." Cam slid off her seat and moved to Blair¹s side, lightly touching her bare arm with her fingertips. "Is it because I didn't come up with you last night?"

"No," Blair said abruptly, but she didn't move her arm away.

"I couldn't think what to do," Cam said as if she hadn¹t heard. "Sometimes, I can't seem to figure out who I am--whether I'm your lover or your security chief. When push comes to shove, I guess I'm more used to being your security chief. I'm sorry."

"Damn it, Cameron, that's not the problem." It almost hurt to hear Cam apologize for something Blair knew she couldn't help. "Can't you just finished this goddamned briefing and go do whatever the security chief part of you needs to do?"

Cam shook her head, smiling softly. "No. The security chief is finished. It's just your lover here now."

Blair drew a manila envelope from beneath the counter and handed it to Cam. "Then maybe you should tell me which one of you I ought to ask about this."

Perplexed, Cam studied the envelope which had Blair's name printed on it in black magic marker and no return address. No stamp either. ³How did this arrive?²

³Courier.²

For one heart-stopping moment, she thought she had been catapulted back in time and she was about to read yet another threatening message from Loverboy. Raising her eyes to Blair's, she asked quietly, "What is it?"

"Open it."

Carefully, Cam folded back the small gold clasps that held the flap closed and withdrew an eight by ten photograph. She stared at it, anger boiling in her chest. "Christ."

"The date stamp on the print is last night," Blair remarked with no inflection in her voice.

"Yes."

"I don't know what to do, Cam. I don't even know what this mea--"

"Blair, I don't know who she is."

Furious, Cam couldn't stop staring at the photograph of herself leaning toward a woman who appeared to be in whispering in her ear. The woman's hand was resting on hers. The shot was intimate, as if it had been taken during a private moment, an image stolen from a lover's tryst. It was the redhead from the evening before, and although only their faces were in focus, the grainy background was clearly the bar where she had gone for a drink.

"Last night after I left here, I went downtown--"

"You don't need to--"

"Yes, I goddamned well do need to. We need to get something straight," Cam replied heatedly. "I haven't been with anyone else since before I was shot. I haven't wanted to be. I don't want anyone but you and I have no intention of being with anyone else. Not now, not ever."

"I feel ridiculous putting you in a position where you need to say that," Blair said, her tone somewhere between embarrassed and confused.

"Why?"

"Because I've never wanted anyone to say what you just said before."

"If it makes you feel any better, I've never said it to anyone before," Cam answered gently as she moved closer and slipped both arms around Blair's waist. They were facing one another, thighs touching, leaning back in the circle of one another's arms to look into each other's eyes. "I don't know what the hell is going on. I don't know why someone is trying to drive a wedge between us--if that's even what this is about. I can't imagine that our relationship is a threat to anyone."

At that, Blair laughed out loud. "Uh--visited the Bible Belt recently?"

"This isn't their style--the photograph in the newspaper, maybe. But even that's a stretch. You're the President's daughter, for god's sake. Even the right wingers aren't crazy enough to sling mud at you."

"Maybe. I'm sure this is only the beginning."

"I'm sorry you have to deal with this." Cam kissed her forehead, the feel of Blair's body in her arms easing the tightness in her chest that the photo had evoked.

"So--who is the bitch?" Blair asked abruptly, but there was a light dancing in her eyes that hadn't been there before.

Cam laughed. "I have no idea. I couldn't sleep last night--that seems to be a common theme when I'm not with you."

"I don't know why that makes me happy, either, but it does."

"Good."

"Hmm--I know what you do when you can't sleep, though," Blair remarked lightly, but her eyes were troubled again. Resting her cheek against Cam's shoulder, she kissed her neck above the collar of her pristine white shirt.

 "Not to worry, remember?" Cam brushed a kiss into her hair, and continued, "At any rate, I was just sitting there, trying to get my thoughts in order, and she appeared out of nowhere. I wasn't really paying any attention and, I have to admit, I really don't know who else was in the bar with us. Obviously, someone was inside watching me and took the picture."

"Do you think she was trying to set you up for something?"

"I don't know. She could have been an innocent bystander and someone just took advantage of the moment. What is clear, though, is that I was tailed from here to the bar." She rested her chin on the top of Blair's head and sighed. "Some Secret Service Agent I've been this week. I let someone photograph you in a compromising position and now I've managed to get myself a tail that I didn't even see. Maybe it is time for me to retire."

"Bullshit." Blair tilted her head while tapping a finger against Cam's chest. "You haven't had enough rest in a week to account for one full night's sleep. On top of that, you've had a concussion, not to mention more stress than any one person should have to handle in a year, let alone a few weeks. If you've missed a few things, it's understandable. I still trust you with my life."

"The problem is, you are, and if I'm not up to the job--"

"Oh, for God's sake, Cameron, give yourself a break. When I require you to walk on water, I'll let you know."

For a moment, Cam simply stared at her, and then she laughed. "Yes ma'am."

"And whatever they were trying to do with us, it's had quite the opposite effect. All they've managed to do is piss me off," Blair added. "And not at you."

"Thank god for that. I don't think I could take it."

"On the other hand," Blair said as she cupped Cam's cheek in her hand,  "if I see her anywhere near you, her life isn't worth a dime."

For an instant, Cam was worried, and then she recognized the lilt of humor in Blair's voice. It was something that had been lacking for too long, and hearing it made her heart lift. "Let's hope for her sake she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. For now, let's forget about her."

Blair insinuated the fingers of one hand through the thick, dark hair at the base of Cam's neck and pulled her head down. Just before she melded her lips to Cam's, she whispered throatily, "Yes. Let's do that."

As the kiss turned hungry, Blair's thighs began to tremble, and she edged her hips up onto the stool behind her, pulling Cam with her until her lover was pressed between the vee of her legs. Lifting both hands to Cam's shoulders, Blair pressed her breasts against Cam's chest, the thin cotton of her T-shirt doing little to blunt the effect of her nipples hardening from the heat of her lover's body alone. Moaning faintly far back in her throat, she kneaded both hands down Cam's back and then underneath her jacket, finally pulling the shirt free of her trousers until her palms found skin.

As their tongues met in a rush of possession, Cam eased her hands between their bodies and rubbed her thumbs over Blair's nipples, drawing a small cry from her. Pressing her pelvis hard into the space between Blair's thighs, Cam lifted both breasts in her hands while tugging sharply on Blair's nipples. She grunted softly as Blair thrust hard into her, her clitoris swelling instantly from the pressure.

"Oh, this is such a bad idea," Blair gasped, even as she began working at Cam's belt buckle.

"Why?" Cam's words were short and tight with challenge, her fingers still tormenting.

"Because," Blair replied before she bit her neck, "I know how you hate to be distracted when you're working."

By way of reply, Cam bunched the T-shirt in one fist and jerked it upward until Blair's breasts were exposed, the white fabric straining across the top of her chest, calling the blood to the surface and painting her breasts with the hot blush of arousal. Swiftly, she lowered her head and pulled one nipple into her mouth. Blair's neck arched as she closed her eyes and whimpered.

Moving from one breast to the other and then back again, Cam alternately sucked and bit until Blair's hands flew to her face and pushed her head away.

"You've got to stop. I'll go crazy if you keep doing that."

"I thought you already were crazyŠabout me." Cam's voice was thick, her eyes heavy-lidded with need. She kept one hand on Blair's breast as she yanked the drawstring loose on the soft cotton pants with the other. "Didn't you..." She worked her hand under the fabric. "...say that?"

"You know what I mean," Blair replied urgently, her lips swollen with kisses and lust. "You make me want to...Oh..." Shocked by the sudden touch of Cam's fingers on her tensely distended clitoris, she nearly came. She gripped Cam's arms hard enough to leave bruises and struggled to contain the swift surge of pleasure. "Jesus Christ."

"I love the way you feel," Cam grated, pushing deeper between Blair's thighs with the force of her whole body behind it. Blair's fingers dug into her flesh. Cam moved her hand from Blair's breast to behind her shoulders, then pulled her lover roughly against her, simultaneously stroking rapidly inside her. Blair clung to her, both arms now wrapped tightly around her neck--her face, damp with perspiration and the sweet sheen of sex--pressed to Cam's neck.

Cam breathed in Blair's ear, "I love to fuck you."

"Do it, just do it."

Before the words had completely left her throat, Blair bucked on Cam's hand, then grew rigid, crying out helplessly as wave upon wave of pleasure ripped through her.

When Blair finally quieted, sagging back on the stool, her back propped against the breakfast counter for support, Cam spread her arms on either side of her and leaned close, pressing her hips into the still tender places that made Blair gasp. With her lips brushing the outer edge of Blair's ear again, she growled, "I love you. Don't ever forget that."

Then, her legs still shaking from exertion and arousal, Cam stepped away, rapidly tucking in her shirt with trembling hands.

³What are you doing?² Blair asked, her voice thick with the lingering lassitude of satisfaction.

"I need to get out of here. I'm on duty, remember?"

"Are you out of your mind?" Blair laughed, her tone stronger this time. "Tell me you're not ready to come."

Cam grinned a little shakily. "What do you think?"

"Think? I know. Get over here and let me take care of you."

"I shouldn't. Really--I have things I have to do."

"Uh-huh." Indolently, Blair pulled her T-shirt the rest of the way off and ran one hand up her bare abdomen and over her breasts. "If you leave here the way you are now, everyone downstairs is going to know. You're shaking. You look like you're about to explode out of your skin."

As she talked, Blair absently brushed her fingers over one nipple, bringing it back to taut arousal. Cam couldn't take her eyes off those sensuous fingers. When Blair squeezed her own breast, her breath catching audibly as her hips lifted in invitation, Cam¹s head reeled.

³Fuck it.² Pushing into the space between Blair's spread thighs, Cam rapidly unbuckled her belt and opened her trousers. Then, she grasped the counter on either side of Blair's body and leaned down to kiss her. Arms outstretched, locked in place, she waited for the touch that she knew would devastate her.

Smiling against Cam's mouth, Blair pushed past the zipper and under the last barrier of material, then slid her fingers along her rigid length and circled back up again, reveling in the swift jerk of Cam's hips into her palm. Cam's breath rasped in her ear, a choking desperate sound that might have been pain, but she knew it wasn't.

She could have teased her--she loved to tease her, but this time she knew neither of them could bear it. She worked her clitoris under her palm as she stroked back and forth through the hot swollen tissue, bringing Cam rapidly to the edge and then mercilessly driving her over. Cam shouted as she climaxed, shuddering in Blair's arms, the weight of her body collapsing into orgasm almost enough to make Blair come again, too. As if it were the first time, Blair held her and trembled‹breathless with the wonder of loving her.

Chapter Nineteen

Ten minutes later, Cam stood at the door, brushing a strand of damp hair from Blair¹s cheek.

³I¹ll be back tomorrow. Noon at the latest. If there¹s any delay, I¹ll call you from DC.²

³Okay.² Blair regarded her seriously, her gaze probing Cam¹s face. "The photograph of you in the bar last night‹does it have anything to do with the call in San Francisco?"

"I don't know," Cam said after a moment's hesitation. "there are too many things that don't make sense right now. I'm hoping I'll be able to find some answers in DC."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Blair," if there were an...investigation into...irregularities, you could be called to testify. Anything you know about me--or information I've shared with you--would be fair game. I can't put you in that position."

"I'm your lover, Cam," Blair insisted quietly, realizing she had never before thought of herself that way in relationship to another person. It was so much more than physical, and the thought of being excluded from Cam's life bothered her. "I want to know what's happening to you."

Cam brushed her thumb across Blair's cheek and let her fingers trail over her neck to her shoulder. With her palm lightly stroking Blair's bare upper arm, she murmured, "I don't want to keep secrets from you, but there's more than just us involved."

"You can't forget who I am, can you?" Blair said, her tone more sorrowful than accusatory.

"You're a lot more to me than the First Daughter," Cam replied, her tone gentle. "When you're not angry with me, you remember that, right?"

"I'm not angry with you now. I just can't stand feeling like there's something standing between us, even though I know what you said makes sense. I hate that I'll miss you the minute you walk out the door, and I'll worry about what's happening to you, and I'll wonder about who you're with."

"Do you really hate those things?" Cam's eyes had gone gray black and they bore into Blair's.

"No," Blair whispered, resting her palm under Cam's jacket over the place where her heart beat beneath. "God, no."

"I promise I'll tell you as much as I can."

"All right. I don't like it, but I'll accept that for now."

"Thank you."

Blair rubbed her hand lightly back and forth over Cam's chest. "You¹ll be careful, right?²

³Swear." Cam kissed her, gently this time, without the urgency of earlier passion but with the certainty of belonging. "Don¹t disappear on Mac if you go out, okay? Take someone with you, no matter where you¹re going.²

Sighing, Blair nodded. ³Only for you, Commander.²

Lightly, Cam stroked her cheek. ³I love you.²

 Then she opened the door and crossed the foyer to the elevator. Blair watched until the elevator doors closed behind her.

And then the longing, the other side of love, began.

*****

Downstairs in Command Central, Cam found Mac in a cubbyhole in one corner of the main room, reviewing the pre-Paris intelligence reports. "Where's Stark?"

"In the gym, I think. She's got the swing shift today. I didn't have any intel that Egret would be flying. Do you need her now?"

³Not for Egret. She¹s settled in the nest.² Cam pointed to the ceiling and Blair¹s apartment above. "But I want to talk to both of you. Let's go find her."

Five minutes later, they discovered Stark flat on her back on a weight bench, a barbell poised over her chest, counting reps out loud. She was alone in the twenty by thirty foot room outfitted with weights and aerobic equipment that the team used to keep in shape and work off excess adrenalin while waiting for Egret to leave the Aerie, as they referred to her top floor sanctuary.

"You should probably have a spotter," Mac remarked good-naturedly as he lifted the bar from her hands and settled it into the cleats. She sat up, reaching for a towel as she did so. Quickly, she wiped the sweat from her face and off her bare arms. In a sleeveless T-shirt and gym shorts, her body looked sturdy and muscular.

"Sorry," Stark said glancing from Mac to Cam. "I didn't think there was anything on for me. I¹ll just grab a fast shower and--"

"Relax, Stark," Cam said as she slipped off her suit jacket. The air-conditioning in the workout room left a little something to be desired, and it was humid the way all gyms seemed to be. "This is not about Egret's detail."

Clearly puzzled, Stark remained silent as Cam settled onto a bench facing her and Mac sat down by her side. Automatically, she moved over an inch to give him some room and herself space to maneuver. An agent never let their personal perimeter be encroached upon.

³I have to go to DC this afternoon,² Cam said. ³Mac, you¹ll have the watch.²

³Okay. Do you need me to make flight arrangements?²

³No. I¹ll just catch a shuttle. I expect to be back tomorrow, butŠsomething may come up.² She paused, then said briskly, ³Something has come up.²

She handed Mac the manila envelope. ³Take a look at that. Handle it carefully--there probably aren¹t any prints, but we could get lucky.²

Stark checked the envelope over Mac¹s shoulder. ³No post marks.²

³It came by courier this morning. Hand delivered.²

Mac drew in a quick breath, no doubt having the same uncomfortable feelings of déjà vu she¹d had at first seeing the black block letters spelling out Blair's name. ³It went through to her?²

³Yes.²

³Who was downstairs?² Stark asked, an edge to her voice.

³Taylor. He scanned it, then had it sent up to Egret. No reason not to.²

Carefully, Mac pulled the photograph out by the corner and placed it atop the envelope in his lap. The two agents studied it for a minute without comment. Finally, Mac looked up at her. ³Any message with it?²

³No.²

³When was it taken,² Stark asked, her tone guarded. She wasn¹t used to questioning her commander about anything, let alone something that was obviously personal.

³Last night about 3:00 a.m.²

³Jesus,² Mac exclaimed. ³How‹²

³Someone must have tailed me downtown from here, because I never went home.²

Neither of them asked how it was possible that she had been followed. Ordinarily, a Secret Service agent didn¹t worry about their own security. They were just anonymous faces on the fringes of the spotlight, nearly identical and interchangeable. And replaceable.

³What really worries me is that someone probably tailed us from Teterboro to here. Which means that we have a problem in terms of Egret¹s security.²

³Do you think that she¹s a target of some kind?² Mac asked.

³Jesus, not again,² Stark breathed, unaware that she had even spoken aloud.

³Probably not physically,² Cam replied grimly. ³But that remains to be seen. We must assume she is. Maybe this is the same photographer who took the photo in San Francisco.²

Stark stared for a second, her thoughts practically written across her broad, smooth face. ³On the beach‹²

³Yes,² Cam said quietly.

³Oh, man, I¹m sorry, Commander,² she said miserably. ³I had the beach in view the whole time, but he must have gotten by me.²

³He got by us both, Stark. Forget it.² Cam tried to shrug away the anger that rose every time she thought of someone watching her and Blair together during an innocent, intimate moment. When they¹d both felt safe. Christ, is this how she feels all the time? No wonder she¹s angry. How in hell does she stand it?

³Commander?² Mac asked uncertainly.

Cam flinched imperceptibly, her gaze refocusing on her agents. ³I¹d like to know who¹s taking such an interest.²

³You want me to run this through forensics?²

³Like I said‹we could get lucky. Maybe he licked the envelope and we¹ll get a DNA sample.²

³Or maybe she did,² Stark interjected.

³I suppose that¹s possible,² Cam allowed, keeping her tone carefully neutral.

Mac glanced again at the image, seeming to be searching for words. ³Do youŠuhŠknow this woman?²

³No, I don¹t,² Cam answered crisply. ³Try calling Walker in the New York City lab to run the tests. He¹s good.²

³Uh, excuse me, Commander,² Stark said, ³but maybe that¹s not such a good idea. Respectfully, ma¹am.²

Cam eyed her. ³Go ahead.²

³Well, this photograph isŠtelling.²

³Interesting choice of words,² Cam remarked dryly, hating the disclosure of something so private, even to those she trusted. The younger agent colored, and Cam regretted her brief loss of control. ³Go ahead, Stark.²

³I think we should handle this internally as far as possible.²

³Are you up on your forensics?² Mac interjected. ³Cause I sure can¹t walk this through a lab.²

³No,² Stark answered tentatively, seemingly feeling her way along a narrow ledge that threatened to crumble under her feet. ³But I know someone we can trust who can do it. Renee Savard.²

³She¹s FBI,² Mac exclaimed. "Since when do we trust them?"

³She¹s a friend,² Stark insisted, holding his gaze steadily. ³I know she won¹t betray us. And she¹s been assigned to a desk at the New York City field office.²

³Isn¹t she still in the hospital?² Cam asked.

³Until today. I'm going there in a few minutes to pick her up.² For the first time, she appeared unsure. ³To give her a ride homeŠyou know.²

Cam suppressed a grin. ³Understood. But she¹s got to be on medical leave for a while.²

Stark laughed derisively. ³Sure. For about a day. She¹ll go in the first chance she gets.²

³Mac?² Cam asked.

He thought about the conversations he¹d had in the past with the FBI agent. She had always dealt with them squarely, and she had been willing to give her life for Egret. Still, he had an inherent distrust of the FBI. ³Yeah, I say we keep it in house. And Savard is almost one of us.²

³Agreed.² Cam stood. ³Stark, mind if I tag along with you to the hospital on my way to the airport?²

³I¹ll be ready in five,² the agent responded, jumping up and heading for the shower.

³Keep me informed of any developments on this end, Mac.²

³Don¹t worry, Commander,² he assured her rapidly. ³We¹ll be fine here.²

³Of course,² she said with confidence. But leaving Blair was getting harder every day, and it had less and less to do with her assignment as the First Daughter¹s security chief.

Chapter Twenty

"Is she okay?"

"Sure," Stark responded automatically, watching the door swing closed behind Cameron Roberts.

Renee Savard, seated on the side of her narrow hospital bed, raised an eyebrow. Her coffee-colored skin had regained its luster and her blue eyes were sharp and clear once again. If the bruise on her forehead or the healing gunshot wound in her shoulder were causing her any pain, she didn't show it. Even in a faded, shapeless hospital gown she was striking.

"She took quite a beating in the blast, you know," Stark acknowledged uneasily. "Why?"

"She looks tired, that's all. I'm guess I¹m just not used to seeing her that way.² Her blue eyes probed the face of the agent rocking faintly back and forth on her heels by the side of her bed, clearly uncomfortable discussing her chief. Renee noticed, too, the circles smudging the smooth clear skin under Paula¹s eyes, and she realized that all of them had taken a beating the last few weeks. Softly, she asked, ³How about you? You okay?².

"Yeah. Fine."

"That's good," Savard replied, not really believing her. ³It took guts for Roberts to come here today and show me that photo.²

"She doesn't back down from anything," Stark agreed.  

³Still I am FBI. For all she knows I could send that straight to an Assistant Director and she¹d have a jacket by sundown.²

³Yeah‹like we all don¹t anyhow,² Stark said angrily. ³You know Doyle investigated all of us when the task force was formed.²

³That¹s just SOP,² Savard pointed out gently. ³But I know it sucked for all of you.²

Stark¹s expression softened. ³Sorry, I know it wasn¹t on you. Do you think you'll be able to help us out?"

"Shouldn't be a problem. I know a couple of people in the lab who will run things through for me with no questions asked. They're such total lab rats they probably don't even know who she is. I don't think they'll make the connection. It will buy her a little time, but sooner or later, you know something is going to come out."

Stark was silent, torn between her desire to share her concerns and her loyalty to her commander's privacy.

"I saw the photo in the newspaper last night," Savard remarked casually. "The one of Blair Powell and the mystery lover."

"Yeah," Stark said offhandedly. "The whole team seems to be a popular subject these days."

"That's Roberts with her, isn't it?"

Once again, Stark hesitated.

"Paula, anyone with eyes can see what's happening between those two. You know damn well I don't care. Why should I? It's their business."

"Yeah," Stark replied with a hint of bitterness. "It should be just their business--but considering it's the first daughter and all--and the commander being on the team--you know it's complicated."

"Complicated. Yes, I agree with that. But it's still nobody's business. It's for them to work out the complications."

"I hope they can," Stark said fervently. She'd been on Egret's team since day one, and for a few months before Ellen Grant had been assigned, she'd been the only woman. She'd watched Blair tear through one night stands and dangerous liaisons--until the Commander had come along. Now it was all different. Better.

Savard smiled, watching the concern darken Stark's eyes. "You're sweet, have I ever mentioned that?"

"Maybe," Stark said, grinning.

"They'll be okay."

"Sure, I know that." Stark straightened her shoulders. "I'm glad you didn't mind me suggesting that you help out. I didn't know that the Commander was going to brief you herself."

Savard reached out and took Stark's hand, running her thumb back and forth over the top of her hand as their fingers intertwined. "You did right. I'm glad you thought of me.²

"I think about you all the time." Stark blushed, but her voice was firm and her eyes held Savard's steadily.

"Good. Now let's get me dressed so you can take me home," Savard said, reaching for the clothes on her bed. Carefully, she worked each leg into her pants and stood up by the side of the bed, frowning as she contemplated how to close buttons and zippers with only one functioning hand. Her left hand was held tightly across her chest in a sling. "Uh... I think I'm going to need some help here. Sorry."

"No problem," Stark said nonchalantly, stepping forward and sliding up the zipper on the FBI agent's pants, being careful not to touch the taut smooth skin of her abdomen as Renee held the hospital gown up with her good hand. Then she worked the button closed on the waistband and looked around for Renee's shirt.

Renee hooked a finger inside Stark's belt and tugged playfully. "This is where I should say something clever about how I wish you were undressing me."

Stark colored and lifted the dark blue polo shirt from the bottom of the bed. She held it in front of her and said, "Here. I guess we'll have to take the sling off to get this on." She frowned. "Is that okay? I don't want to hurt you."

"I can¹t raise my arm. I think we're going to have to use something with buttons," Savard observed. "Is there anything in the bag like that?"

Stark rapidly looked through the contents of the gym bag which Renee's sister had brought earlier that day. "No. Everything pulls on over your head."

"Well, I don't intend to leave here in this hospital gown--and I'm not staying one more minute longer than I have to." Savard was silent for a few seconds, and then she smiled, her eyes twinkling. "You're about my size. Give me your shirt."

"My shirt!"

"Well, it buttons, which is the primary thing. You can wear my polo shirt."

"There's a problem," Stark said, her face reddening again.

"Paula, I work mostly with men. I went through the FBI Academy with a class that was 90 percent male. A little sweat, especially yours, is not going to bother me.²

"That's not the problem," Stark said stiffly. "I'm not...uh...wearing anything under it."

"Even better. A shirt and a bonus." Renee Savard laughed out loud at Stark's expression. "Take off the jacket and give me the damn shirt. I want to get out of here--and don't even think about asking me to close my eyes."

Stark shed her jacket and pulled her pale-blue button-down collared shirt from the waistband of her black trousers. Her gun was clipped on the right side of her pants and she steadied the holster with one hand while she worked the buttons free on the front of her shirt with the other.

"You want me to do that?" Savard asked innocently.

"You only have one hand remember?" Stark was smiling now. She liked the way Savard's eyes widened slightly as the material over her breasts parted with each button that she loosened.

"You'd be amazed what I can do with one hand." Renee's voice was lower, a bit husky. She reached out her hand, and Paula stepped back a foot.

"I've got it."

"Don't trust me?" Renee asked teasingly, her eyes on the muscled chest and small, firm breasts now nearly completely exposed.

"No," Stark said quietly. "Don't trust myself."

"I do," Renee whispered, moving closer and placing a kiss on her lips. She held it, savoring the soft full lower lip exploring hers and the barest press of breasts against her own. It was going to be very easy to get lost in Paula Stark's arms. Sighing with a mixture of pleasure and regret, she broke the kiss. "Time to go."

"I have to work tonight," Stark managed, her throat thick. She held out her shirt, unmindful of her nudity now. Her skin felt so hot all she wanted was the cool touch of Renee's fingers. "I'm sorry."

Savard shook her head and took the shirt. "Until when?"

"Midnight."

"I'll nap." Savard tossed her the polo shirt. "You can return my shirt when you get off work."

Stark grinned. "Roger that."

*****

Not long after Cam left, Blair set aside her palette and brushes and washed her hands in the work sink tucked into the corner of the loft that served as her studio. Then she lifted the nearby phone and punched in a familiar number. A moment later, a woman answered.

"Hello?"

The whiskey tones were huskier than usual, and Blair smiled fondly. "Don't tell me you just woke you up? It is the middle of the day, you know?"

"Listen, love, some of us have to work at night."

Blair tossed back her head and laughed again. "Oh, please, Diane. I know the kind of work you do after midnight."

"How do you know that I wasn't busy selling one of your paintings?" Diane Bleeker, her business agent and oldest friend, inquired indignantly. "And how do you know that I was sleeping just now?"

"If you were slaving on my behalf, I appreciate it. If you weren't, I'd love to hear all the details."

"Where are you?" Diane asked, beginning to sound awake.

"Back in Manhattan."

"Is everything all right?"

The concern in her friend's voice was genuine. As many times over their fifteen year friendship that they'd disagreed over the direction of each other¹s relationships--or been at odds over the same woman, their deep-rooted affection for one another persisted.

"I'm fine," Blair hastened to assure her. "I wouldn't mind seeing you, though--if your associate from last evening isn't still there."

"Well," Diane said as if thinking it over. "Let's say by the time you get here, my calendar will be clear."

"Don't let me rush you."

"Oh my dear, never that. Some things should definitely be savored."

"Is an hour good enough?"

"Perfect. Now, let me get back to what I was about to do. I'll see you soon."

After hanging up, Blair stripped off her soiled clothes and headed toward the shower. On her way, she picked up the bedside phone and dialed another number. It was answered immediately.

"Yes, Ms. Powell?"

"I'm going out in an hour, Mac."

If he were surprised by the advance notice, which was a distinctly unusual phenomenon for the notoriously unpredictable First Daughter, his voice didn't reveal it. "Very well. I'll call for the car."

"That would be fine, thank you, Mac."

Fifty minutes later, dressed in jeans, a white, short-sleeved ribbed cotton top and running shoes, she keyed the penthouse elevator and rode down to the lobby. When the doors opened, Felicia Davis and a small, bespectacled agent, Vince Taylor, a relative newcomer to the team, were waiting for her. She assumed that one of the others was in the car which idled at the curb. It didn't really matter to her, because her mind was elsewhere. She had told Cam she had no intention of discussing their relationship with Lucinda Washburn, but she knew it was only a matter of time before she would need to. The only reason her proclivities had not become a matter of record much sooner was only because she'd never had a serious relationship. It was much easier to remain anonymous when one's love interests were anonymous as well. As she stepped from beneath the awning over the entrance to her building, reporters hurried down the sidewalk toward her, microphones extended and cameras at the ready. Clearly, her days of anonymity were numbered.

After the early morning briefing, her security team was prepared for exactly this occurrence and quickly surrounded her, escorting her rapidly to the Suburban, whose doors stood open to facilitate her entry. Once she was inside, the driver pulled quickly from the curb, and she was able to avoid making any kind of comment whatsoever in response to the shouted questions. Fortunately, New York City traffic prohibited easy pursuit, and by the time day reached Diane Bleeker¹s upper East side condo, they had left the press behind. Felicia Davis accompanied her to Diane's door and took up a post just outside after Diane answered Blair's knock.

"That's one I don't think I've seen before," Diane remarked after a quick glimpse of the tall ebony-skinned woman who somehow managed to look Paris runway elegant in the standard dark, two-piece suit. "She's absolutely gorgeous."

"Forget it. She's straight."

"And your point would be?" Diane tossed a grin over her shoulder as she led them through the apartment to a sitting area facing the balcony. Through the open French doors, the green expanse of Central Park was visible far below.

"Don't you have your hands full with your many other...ah...interests?" Blair teased.

"Well, variety is the spice of life and all that."

"Riiight."

"You want something to drink? Beer or wine?"

Blair shook her head and settled into one corner of the broad beige sectional. She kicked off her shoes, propped her feet on a footstool, and dropped her head against the back of the sofa. "No, I'm fine. Thanks."

"Yeah, I can see that." Diane walked to a nearby serving cart and poured herself a glass of white wine, then returned and sat near Blair. Resting one hand on Blair's blue-jeaned leg, Diane said, "So. Tell me."

Blair raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think there's anything to tell?"

"Come on--save me the trouble of teasing it out of you.² Suddenly, she held up a hand. ³No wait--let me guess. Roberts has done something to annoy you again."

"Why do you say that?" Blair asked in honest curiosity.

"Because you always get those double frown lines between your brows when she's driving you crazy."

Blair shook her head and smiled. "No. She hasn't done anything. In fact she's--fabulous."

"Oh my God." Diane's voice registered true shock. "You can't be serious."

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you really, truly in love?"

For moment, Blair wavered. She had said the words to Cam, but only rarely. She¹d told Marcea. Still, saying it, she was sure, would destroy the last barricade that stood between her heart and everything that had always threatened to hurt her. Maybe it had started with the loss of her mother, or maybe it had been the betrayal of her first love in prep school, or maybe it had been the long procession of women who had claimed to want her when it was only the spotlight that accompanied her father's name they wished to experience. She had managed to protect herself from the disappointment of a love lost by never allowing it in. Into the expectant silence, she loosed the fear and breathed the truth. "Yes. Utterly. Madly. "

Diane stared at her, her face blank and unreadable for what felt like an endless moment. Finally, she sipped her drink and said quietly, "I envy you. And I'm happy for you."

Almost shyly, Blair nudged Diane's leg with her toes. "Thanks."

"So, if it's not Roberts, what's the problem?"

"I guess you haven't seen a newspaper recently."

Diane laughed, a deep throated purr that at one time had been enough to make Blair want to throw her down on the bed and ravish her. But they had been teenagers then and they had not been lovers for many years. "There's a picture of me on the front page of the Post in a compromising position. You can't tell that it's Cameron, but eventually someone is going to put it together. I am, to put it bluntly, about to be outed."

"You've had a pretty good run, you know," Diane pointed out quietly.

"I know. I'm just not sure how to handle it. The White House needs to be prepared, because my father is going to catch the fallout."

"I've always thought that a preemptive strike was the best way to deal with things like this."

"You think I should make a statement?"

"Do you intend to keep on with her?"

Blair gasped, as if from a sudden pain. "God, I hope so."

"Well, that's the answered then, isn't it?" Diane shrugged. "If you aren't willing to give her up, then you're going to have to deal with the publicity that goes with the relationship. Better have it on your own terms than end up always needing to defend yourself."

Blair ran her hands through her hair, then sighed. "It would be so much easier if I didn't have to worry about the spin doctors in D.C. wanting to control what I say and when I say it and who I say it to."

"Screw them. You're an adult--do what you want to do."

"I have been, but I can't pretend that my father is not the President of the United States. He's got sort of an important job. I think I'm going to need to run this by some people in the West Wing before I shoot him in the foot."

"I suppose you're right. You want me to come with you?"

"Thanks, I really appreciate it. I'd better do this alone."

"So what do you plan to do?"

"I'm going to catch a plane to Washington."

She leaned over, kissed Diane on the cheek, and stood.

"Any chance you could lend me one of your spookies?" Diane asked as she rose and threaded her arm through Blair's.

"Anyone in particular?" Blair asked playfully as the two friends walked toward the door.

When Diane opened the door, Felicia Davis stepped away from the wall and glanced in at Blair.

"She would do nicely," Diane said sotto voce.

Felicia raised one elegant eyebrow. "Ready Ms. Powell?"

"As I'll ever be," Blair replied seriously.

Chapter Twentyone

At 1830 hours that evening, Cam sat in a deserted anteroom in front of a plain varnished door with a small sign bearing Stewart Carlisle¹s name. She settled in to wait, but just a few minutes passed when his administrative assistant appeared around the corner and said, ³He¹s ready for you.²

When she opened the door and stepped into the unadorned office that had little in the way of personalized touches other than a small framed photo on the wall of a very young Stewart Carlisle with John Fitzgerald Kennedy and his brother Robert, her immediate superior was making a notation on the bottom of a report.

³Grab a chair,² he said without looking up.

She chose the right hand one of a pair of institutional fabric covered office chairs in front of his desk and crossed her right ankle over her knee, her hands resting loosely on the thin wooden armrests. When he finally closed the folder and pushed the pile of papers away with his right hand, looking up to meet her gaze, his face revealed nothing.

³What happened with that newspaper photograph?² he began without preamble. ³That¹s just the kind of thing the White House likes to chew my ass over.²

³I was going to ask you the same thing,² she said calmly. ³We should have had intelligence that the photo was going out over the wires and been prepared for the article in the Post. As it was, we walked into a hornet¹s nest of reporters at Teterboro when we arrived last night. We were lucky it didn¹t turn into a free for all. So where was the breakdown in the system?²

A muscle bunched in his jaw, but his voice, too, was even as he replied, ³Since you were there when the picture was taken, I assumed you¹d be able to tell me.²

For a second, Cam thought he was referring to her presence on the beach with Blair, before she realized that he simply meant San Francisco. Oddly, it didn¹t bother her. There was not one moment in her relationship with Blair that she would deny to anyone. On the other hand, in a world rife with double dealings, political blackmail, and constant struggle for bureaucratic superiority, she had learned never to divulge information that could be used as a weapon against her or anyone she cared for.

³The photo was taken with a long-range telephoto lens, probably across the water from an adjacent pier. We had close physical surveillance in place, but no substantial perimeter. I had no reason to believe in that particular location it was required.²

³The camera could just as well have been a long-range rifle equipped with a night scope,² he pointed out as if discussing an inconsequential notation in the margin of a not particularly interesting article. ³She could be dead instead of just caught in an embarrassing moment.²

A pain like a shard of glass tore through her chest and it even hurt to take a breath, but outwardly her expression didn¹t change. ³I¹ve thought of that. Unless we keep her at highest priority twenty-four hours a day, we can¹t prevent it if someone decides to do it. Ordinarily, that kind of perimeter is not required for her, and I felt our security status at that time was adequate.²

³It¹s going to be one more piece of ammunition against you.²

³Meaning what?²

³I received a call from Justice this morning. Apparently, a petition for a formal inquest into the outcome of the operation in New York has been lodged by the NSA chief and the Deputy Director of the Bureau.²

³That¹s precedent setting, isn¹t it?²

He shrugged. "It was a joint operation, so the Bureau is within their rights to ask for it. Bottom-line though, it¹s the casualties that resulted that make it difficult to fight without looking like we have something to hide. There's not much I can do about it."

"All right. I understand."

"I'm not sure that you do. They want you relieved of duty until the inquiry is completed."

Gray eyes hardened, but she didn't move a muscle. "What did you say?"

For the first time that day, and for one of the very few times she could ever remember, he looked uncomfortable. "I told them no, but I don't know how long that will last."

"Since when do you let outside departments tell the Secret Service how to run its business?"

"Since the President was forced to accept an FBI Director who is just a little bit further right than Joe McCarthy. Damn it, Roberts, you know that ever since William Morrow was appointed that the FBI has been working nonstop to expand its investigative reach and confiscate as much power as possible from the other security divisions."

"And you think that the Bureau is behind this move to investigate me?"

"That's my best guess."

"Why? What difference does it make to them who¹s in charge of Blair Powell's security?"

For a moment, he didn't speak and she knew he was making a decision as to whether he could ultimately trust her or not. Bureaucratic politics superseded even friendship. Finally, he leaned back in his chair and grimaced.

"Think about it. In another six months, Andrew Powell will need to consolidate a reelection platform. He'll need money and backers and a very high popularity rating or he may not win a bid for reelection. His liberal left of center views haven't always gone over well--with either party. He's not a shoe-in to get the nod from his own party." He shrugged, as if that explained things, but went on to say, "In the days of J. Edgar Hoover, the FBI had dossiers on every important political figure in the country, as well as leaders of industry, civil rights organizers, Hollywood stars--everyone with any conceivable connection to the men who held the reins of power--citizens and criminals alike. They used information as a weapon and bought and sold Presidents at will. Some suggested that if they couldn't buy them, they killed them. Or at least looked the other way while someone else did."

"But that was thirty, forty years ago," Cam protested.

"And you think that couldn't happen again? Look at the direction the Supreme Court has taken in the last twenty years--they don¹t even pretend to be non-partisan. Andrew Powell is a very liberal president, and there are a lot of people in Washington who aren¹t happy that he was elected. Right now, my best guess is that some powerful people who want him out are gathering as much ammunition from every quarter that they possibly can. Having an edge on the President's daughter, having some degree of control over the information flow to and from the quarter, might be parlayed into political leverage at some point."

"That seems like a stretch to me," Cam argued.

"Not if someone heading her task force reports directly to the FBI, and not to me."

Cam stiffened. "If I'm out, Mac Phillips would replace me, and I guarantee he's not a mole for anyone."

"It wouldn't necessarily be Mac Phillips who replaces you," Carlisle said slowly.

"But that would be up to you. You'll name my successor."

He stared at her silently. Her heart began to pound and her throat suddenly felt dry. "Is someone squeezing you on this? Stewart, if you're in trouble, I¹ll help if I can. But not at the expense of Blair Powell's safety."

Methodically, he straightened the file folders on his desk and when he looked up, his face was expressionless again. "For the time being, consider yourself notified of a formal inquest. You'll remain on duty until such time as the panel convenes and makes a determination as to whether suspension is recommended."

"She¹s due to go to Paris in less than a week. It's a high security agenda, and I intend to lead the team. If you try to take me off before that, you¹ll have to put me in jail to do it."

When he didn't answer, she got to her feet and walked to his desk, then leaned down with her palms flat on the surface. Her voice was low and strong. "Do whatever it is you have to do as far as I'm concerned, but don't put her at risk because of it."

"That will be all, Agent Roberts."

She continued to look at him for a long moment, then straightened. "Yes, sir."

When she reached the lobby, she signed the log and retrieved her cell phone. Once outside, she punched in a number and waited until a familiar accentless female voice answered. Then she repeated her anonymous account number and requested an appointment, again using only an identifying code.

³I¹m sorry, that employee is not currently available. May I substitute someone with similar qualifications?²

³No, thank you. Please check your priority list and cross-reference this account number, please.²

³Just one moment.²

A minute later, the pleasant tones returned. ³I¹m so sorry to have inconvenienced you. For what time shall I record the appointment?²

³Just relay the request and note this is an open ended appointment for this evening.²

³Certainly. If you would call the following number and note the appointment address.²

Cam memorized the number, thanked her, and rang off. Briefly, she considered calling Blair, and then realized that there was nothing she could tell her that she wanted to say over the phone. She wasn¹t certain how much she really wanted to share with her in person‹because she didn¹t know how to make Blair understand what she might need to do.

Chapter Twenty-two

Blair nodded hello and a murmured brief "Good to see you" as she walked hurriedly through the corridors of the West Wing toward a large office that was about as close to the center of power as you could get without actually being in the Oval Office. She stopped by the desk of a pale, sandy-haired, intense looking young man and asked, "Is she in for me?"

In a flat Midwestern baritone, he replied "Let me check. She was on the phone with the Secretary of State."

In another minute, she was getting a quick hug and a peck on the cheek from a woman she had known since childhood and who still managed to instill in her a certain amount of awe and temerity the way no one else could.

"I figured I'd save you the quarter for the phone call," Blair said as she sat down on the leather sofa that bordered one wall in the office of the White House Chief of Staff.

Lucinda Washburn, a statuesque auburn-haired woman in her early fifties, was dressed in a navy dress accented by a minimum of tasteful gold jewelry. She leaned her hips against the front of the wide desk that was covered with thick binders, stacks of memos, and a computer and regarded Blair with an amused smile.

"Must be serious if it got you to the White House voluntarily."

"I guess that's for you to tell me."

Lucinda sighed and her eyes darkened. "Well, I think that depends."

"On what?"

Lucinda fixed Blair with a look that was known to make the Joint Chiefs sit up straight in their chairs. Blair didn't flinch. She knew Lucinda's stare and at least had learned not to let its effect show in her face.

"Let's cut to the chase, Blair. It depends on who was in the picture with you and whether it¹s something that's likely to come up again. Aaron Stern has already fielded questions at this morning's press briefing about the picture. The press and the public want to know why they haven't heard about this romance of yours before this. Everyone wants details."

Blair did her best not to bristle, but it took every ounce of her formidable will not to snap back that the public could go screw itself. Instead, she said, "I don't see why we need to give any explanation whatsoever. This will be yesterday's news by this time tomorrow."

"You may very well be right. On the other hand, there's nothing that the newshounds like better than something juicy involving the First Family to use as filler while waiting for the next meteorological catastrophe or military atrocity."

"Fine. Tell them it was a date and let it go at that."

"Oh, come now. A middle of the night assignation on a beach in a city half the mid-West thinks is the reincarnation of Sodom and Gomorrah? Don't pretend to be naive because I know better. Here in the White House our motto is to be prepared. I don't like to be blindsided by anything, but particularly not by something that reflects directly on the President's family."

Blair was silent, because she knew that already and that was part of the reason she had come to see Lucinda. Finally, she said, "What do you want?"

"If you're going to embark on a public relationship, then we need to be able to say something about it when asked, and you know damn well we will be asked. So, give me the details now."

"You can say that I'm seriously involved with another woman. I won't give you her name."

Lucinda's expression didn't change. Blair assumed that this news was probably not a surprise, because Lucinda was too astute not to have known before this. But there was a world of difference between assumption and knowledge.

"Well, that will take some handling,² Lucinda answered in a controlled tone. ³If you refuse to name her, it will only make people think you have something else to hide. You'll be hounded to death over it. Is there something I need to know about her--some scandal, some dark hidden past?"

"No."

"And I don't suppose you'd be willing to put this affair under wraps until after the President has the party endorsement for reelection?"

"That's more than a year away."

"Do you want to tell me that you think one year is too long for you to wait? Or is it her? If the woman has any substance--"

"You're stepping over the line, Luce."

Lucinda Washburn¹s dark eyes flashed with ire, but she held her breath for a long second, then exhaled slowly. "Blair, your father has only eight years--maximum--to hold the most powerful position in the world. He can accomplish amazing things for this country and for the future of the world during those eight years. Tell me you don't care about that. Tell me you're willing to risk that."

That had always been the issue, of course. Everyone in her father¹s inner circle, Lucinda included, had sacrificed their personal life to put him where he was. Some never had time for relationships, and those who did rarely kept them long. As his daughter, it wasn't as simple as balancing her father's political ambitions with her own need for an independent, honest life. It was the rightness of placing the personal above the greater good. Looking at it the way Lucinda had put it, her desire for personal happiness seemed selfish. "I've been quiet about my life for over ten years. I've avoided any kind of public statement or disclosure. I didn't mean for that photograph to be in the newspaper. I can't change who I am, even for my father's benefit."

³I¹m not asking you to change. I am asking you not to advertise.²

³I¹ve tried the ³Don¹t ask, Don¹t tell² approach to life. It¹s a lot like living in a prison.²

For one brief instant, Blair saw sympathy in Lucinda¹s face. Then it was gone. ³You¹re your father¹s daughter, Blair. You¹ll make the right decision.²

They didn¹t embrace as they parted, and as Blair passed the closed door to the Oval Office and the pair of Secret service agents flanking it, she saw Cam¹s face and wondered if she had the strength to do the right thing.

*****

Shortly before midnight, Cam opened the door to her apartment and ushered Claire inside. Claire was in street clothes with only the barest hint of makeup, and she seemed younger, more vulnerable. Nevertheless, in only a plain white blouse, dark slacks, and low heels, she was still beautiful.

"Are you all right?" Cam asked immediately as the two of them stood facing one another just inside the door.

"Yes, I'm fine," Claire assured her, although her voice rung hollowly.

"Did you notice anyone following you?"

Claire shook her head and smiled wanly. "No, I don't think so, but I'm not certain I'd notice if they did. Subterfuge is not something I ordinarily need to employ. The security built into our business is enough to insure everyone's safety."

"It probably doesn't matter at this point. Come sit down."

Claire laid her purse on the table just inside the door and walked across the living room to the sofa. Cam joined her, and without being asked, handed her a glass of wine.

³Thank you." She sipped the wine and said quietly, "I called you because there¹ve been more questions. I¹m apparently on the list now, too.²

³Who approached you--a client?²

³Yes.²

³A man?²

³Not the first time, no.²

Cam didn¹t let her surprise show. She¹d thought it might have been Doyle. Now she didn¹t know what to think.

³Someone you knew?²

³A new client. Apparently referred by an impeccable source, but I don¹t know who. I wouldn¹t.²

³And she asked about me?²

³Not directly. Just vague questions about how many people from the Hill used the service. Wondering what kind of company she was in‹nothing very specific, and if I hadn¹t known about the others being questioned, I might not have noticed.² She drew a breath, as if steeling herself to continue. ³Then a man asked about you.²

"What exactly did he ask?" Cam inquired quietly.

"He didn't actually use your name. He showed me a photograph and asked me if I knew you."

"Was he a client, too?"

"He posed as one," Claire said with just a hint of distaste. "I could tell immediately that something was wrong, because he was uncomfortable."

Cam raised an eyebrow in question.

"The type of people I'm used to dealing with are not uncomfortable by our transactions."

"Of course." They were all civilized and business-like and emotionally remote. Like she had been--at first. When did that change? When we exchanged names?

"At any rate, he wasn't interested in anything physical. He was clearly stalling--trying to get me to talk about the business. When I didn't, he resorted to strong-arm tactics."

"Did he touch you?" Cam stiffened and loosely clasped her fingers over Claire's forearm.

"No, not like that," Claire quickly replied, covering Cam's hand with hers. "He mostly blustered and threatened and suggested that I could go to jail."

"For what?"

"That's what I asked him," Claire said with a dismissive shrug. "This is not some backroom operation with a shady client list. In every sense of the word, this is a high-powered business with even higher-powered clientele. Anyone who tried to expose some of our clients would probably end up in jail themselves."

"That's when he showed you the picture?"

She nodded. "Yes. I think at that point he realized he wasn't going to get anything from me and just decided to see how I would react."

"Claire," Cam said gently, placing her hands back on her own thighs. "I don't want you to protect me. You need to protect yourself, even if that means revealing your association with me."

Claire turned on the sofa until her knees were touching Cam's. She rested her hand on Cam's blue jean clad leg. The touch was intimate but not seductive. "I wouldn't do that."

"No matter what happens in the future--if for some reason you have to testify to anything, don't perjure yourself on my account. There's nothing illegal about what we've done. No one can prove the financial transaction, and even if they could, it¹s debatable whether any crime was involved."

"You're right about that. It would be virtually impossible to trace the business' income to any particular person."

"What are you going to do?"

Claire smiled sadly. "I'm going to retire."

They were both silent, because they both knew what that meant. In all likelihood, they would never see one another again.

"Are you leaving DC?" Cam asked softly.

"I don't know yet. Probably."

"This whole thing may blow over. I have a feeling it's just a fishing expedition--probably a small group of people trying to dig up any kind of inflammatory information on anyone they possibly can. There may be no point or direction to this investigation at all." She rubbed her eyes and grimaced. "Still, I think it's best if you get out since they've clearly identified you as part of the organization."

"I have a feeling there's going to be an imminent restructuring of the business. Probably a complete turnover of the escorts, too. At this point, everyone is suspect."

"If you need anything," Cam said, "anytime--you know how to find me."

"Thank you. Part of the reason I was in this business is that it's been very lucrative. You needn't worry about anything like that."

"I just meant--"

Claire placed her fingers gently against Cam's mouth. "I know what you meant."

They were both very still, Claire's fingers motionless against Cam's face. Finally she moved her hand to Cam's neck and held her gaze steadily. In a low voice, her body trembling, she asked, "Is there someone?"

Cam raised her hand and drew Claire's fingers to her lips again, then kissed them softly before letting them go. "Yes."

"I thought there must be. These last few months--you've been gone."

"I--"

The sound of the doorbell interrupted her sentence and Cam murmured, "I'm sorry. Excuse me."

Surprised that the doorman had not phoned to announce a visitor, she quickly crossed to the door and glanced through the peephole. Too stunned even to curse, she opened the door to Blair Powell.

Chapter Twenty-three

³What are you doing in DC?" Cam asked incredulously.

"Sorry to show up unannounced," Blair replied lightly. Hands in the pockets of her jeans, her face was alight with a smile of pleasure she couldn¹t hide. When Cam didn¹t answer, her smile faded. Then, aware of the consternation on Cam's face she asked, "What's wrong?"

Cam stepped into the hall and glanced up and down, pulling the door nearly closed behind her. "Where's the team?"

"My primary detail is at a hotel. The White House detail thinks I'm asleep."

"Goddamn it, Blair, I thought we were passed this by now."

"Listen, Cameron," Blair said sharply, confused by Cam's anger even though she had expected her to be annoyed. "I wanted to see you. No, I needed to see you."

Cam closed her eyes and sighed. When she spoke, her voice was soft, the edge gone. "I'm sorry. I just can't seem to impress upon you that you can't be running around the city by yourself."

"I wasn't running around. I took a cab." She brushed her hand over Cam's chest and bumped Cam¹s leg playfully with her hip. "So can I come in?"

"I¹m sorry. No."

Blair stared at her, bewildered. "Why not? Don't tell me that you're going to get all huffy about the fact that the team doesn't know where I am. If it will make you happier, I'll use my cell phone to call the White House detail commander. I've done it before."

"It's not that." She hesitated, searching for the right words, and then realized that there weren't any. "There's someone here."

"Someone--" Blair stared at her, searching Cam's eyes and finding nothing but sorrow. "Are you finished or is she staying the night for round two?"

"Of course not. Damn it, Blair--"

"My mistake--I should have called."

Before Cam could protest, Blair turned on her heel, rapidly crossed the hallway, and pushed through the fire door to the stairwell. The last thing Cam heard were her boot heels echoing hollowly on the stairs.

*****

Blair was leaning against a lamp post in a faint circle of light on the corner in front of Cam's apartment building when a woman came through the front door ten minutes later. She didn't need to be told who the blond was--she just knew. As if by design, the woman turned in her direction and their eyes met. Blair pushed away from the pole and started up the sidewalk as the other woman walked towards her. They met on the edge of the flickering shadows cast by the streetlight.

"I'd introduce myself," the woman said in a smooth, rich alto, "but that might not be a very good idea."

"No," Blair agreed. "Cameron would only remind us that what we don't know, we can't testify to."

"Precisely."

"Your idea to leave or hers?" Blair asked conversationally.

"Hers. Did you doubt it?"

Blair shrugged. "Now and then."

"You don't have to."

"I might believe that in a decade or two."

The blond smiled wistfully. "I should go‹she¹s pretty worried about you."

"I seem to have that effect on her."

"Apparently much more than that. You're very lucky."

"I could say the same thing about you," Blair said without rancor. "She's come to you for comfort, hasn't she?"

"No--only to forget. You have her heart." The blond extended her hand. "Goodnight then. I don't believe I'll be seeing you again."

"Goodnight."

And then she was gone.

*****

When the elevator doors opened on Cam's floor, Blair found herself face to face with a very harried-looking Secret Service agent.

"Where are you going?" Blair asked, one arm holding the doors open as the bell sounded behind her in the car. Cam wore only threadbare jeans, a plain cotton shirt and loafers without socks. She didn¹t even appear to have her gun.

"To look for you."

"What made you think I didn't go straight back to the White House?" Blair asked as she stepped out of the elevator and the doors closed behind her, leaving them in the sudden hush of the deserted hallway.

"I knew you wouldn't go there."

Blair leaned one shoulder against the wall and studied Cam's face. Only the lingering hurt of imagining Cam in the arms of the alluring blond kept her from reaching out and stroking away the pain that was etched in her face. "Where did you think I'd go?"

Cam shrugged. "A club."

"And someone else's bed?"

Cam flinched as if struck. "Blair, please --"

Blair took Cam's hand and pulled her across the hall toward the apartment door. "We can¹t do this out here."

Wordlessly, Cam fitted her key to the lock, unable to stop the faint trembling in her hands. She'd been more than frightened when Blair had disappeared down the stairwell. She'd been terrified that Blair would rush headlong into the night, driven by pain and anger and betrayal into the solace of someone else's arms. She'd seen her do it before, and it had been agony to watch even the first time‹before she¹d loved her. Now, it would kill her.

Finally, she was able to get the door open and the two of them stepped inside. The room glowed faintly with moonlight and a sliver of illumination that slanted into the room from beyond a partially closed door on the other side of the apartment.

"She's very beautiful, isn¹t she," Blair said abruptly, stopping just inside the entrance to the large living room.

"Blair--"

"Do you love her?"

"No," Cam exclaimed hoarsely, struggling not to touch her. The hard ring of Blair's voice, like steel striking stone, warned her to keep her distance.  "Let me expl--"

"You've slept with her though, haven¹t you?"

"Yes. But‹"

³Tonight?²

³No! Not for a long time. Will you--"

³Did she make you co‹"

³Christ, Blair. Stop it.²

"It makes me crazy to think about it," Blair whispered, her voice breaking.

It was the anguish in her voice more than the cold anger that cracked Cam's resolve. She caught her around the waist and pulled her hard against her chest. With her face buried in Blair's hair, she murmured, "I know. God, I know."

Blair's arms came around her shoulders, and her cheek, wet with tears she hadn't known she¹d shed, brushed against Cam's.

"Oh Jesus, don't cry," Cam begged, nearly choking on her own desperate need to comfort her. "It's not what you think. I swear to God."

"Don't talk anymore," Blair pleaded, her fingers digging into Cam¹s arms. "Just please...make it stop hurting."

"I will,² Cam pledged fervently. ³I promise, I will."

Then Cam found Blair¹s hand and led her through the apartment to her bedroom. By the side of the bed, she tenderly kissed first her eyes, then the corner of her mouth, then the smooth skin of her neck. Lightly, she stroked her fingers along her jaw, over her shoulders, her thumbs brushing the swell of her breasts across the rise of her nipples.

Blair caught her lower lip between her teeth and swallowed a small cry. Lids fluttering, eyes unfocused, she rested her hands on Cam's shoulders for support as her lover slowly undressed her.

When Cam unzipped Blair's jeans and slipped her hands underneath the bottom of her T-shirt, smoothing her palms across her stomach, Blair's muscles flickered under her touch, and for an instant, Cam was afraid she would forget herself. Slowly, she drew the shirt over Blair¹s head and dropped it to the floor. Then, deliberately, she knelt, feeling Blair's hands move from her shoulders and into her hair. Gently, she hooked her fingers over the waistband of Blair's jeans and worked them down over her hips, lowering them until Blair could kick off her boots and step free of her pants. Then Blair stood naked, exposed and vulnerable, as Cam rested her cheek against the hollow at the base of Blair's abdomen. She wrapped her arms around Blair's hips, and, eyes closed, listened to the rush of blood through the arteries and veins just beneath the delicate skin where body joined thigh, her own heart quickening to echo the racing pulse. With one hand, she stroked the soft skin on the inside of Blair's leg, moving upward, gently teasing her thighs apart, circling a fingertip through the wet heat until Blair swayed in her arms, her breath a tumble of small moans. Finally, she shifted until she could press her mouth to the center of Blair's passion, finding her clitoris hard and full with need.

"Cam," Blair whispered, her neck arched, the muscles of her jaw tight as her thighs trembled in expectation.

Parting her lips, Cam enclosed her, sucking lightly.

"Oh," Blair breathed, her hands fisting in Cam's hair. "Don't. Not like this--I'll come right away."

Cam heard the edge of urgency in her voice and pulled her mouth away, rising rapidly and gathering her close once again. With her lips against Blair's ear, she rasped, "I love you so damn much."

"Take off your clothes. I need to have you--everywhere."

Cam stepped away while Blair stretched out on top of her bed. Feverishly, eyes glued to Blair's body, Cam stripped off her shirt and jeans, pulling her loafers off with her clothes. Then she lowered herself on top of Blair, fitting one leg between Blair's thighs, their breasts just touching as she supported herself on her elbows, her palms framing Blair's head. She rocked slowly into the space between Blair¹s legs, feeling the prominence of her clitoris against her thigh, the slick sheen of need along her skin. Their faces were only inches apart, but she did not kiss her yet.

Staring into Blair's eyes, her dark gaze holding Blair captive, Cam said fiercely, "Being with you makes me forget ever touching another woman. Being with you makes me forget that anyone else ever touched me. Being with you is what keeps me alive."

Blair¹s body tightened with the force of Cam¹s voice as much as the press of her flesh, and, as if she had been stroked in some essential place, the words tore through her, obliterating a lifetime of loss. She arched beneath Cam's weight, a cry wrenched from her lips. Then, arms wrapped tightly around her lover, she came.

"God, you're beautiful," Cam gasped as Blair jerked beneath her.

When Blair quieted, Cam collapsed onto the bed beside her and pulled her into her arms. She pressed a kiss into her hair and whispered again, "I love you."

Blair pressed her face to the hollow between Cam's neck and shoulder and breathed in her scent, wanting nothing more than to be surrounded by her, immersed in her, lost to her. After what might have been a moment, or an hour, she murmured, "I wanted you from the minute you walked into my apartment that first day, all spit and polish and businesslike. At first I wanted you because I wanted to control you and not have it be the other way around. Then I wanted you because every time I saw you, you made me ache. Now I want you because the thought of being without you terrifies me."

"Didn't you forget the part about me being such a stud?" Cam said quietly, tightening her grip on the woman in her arms.

"Oh that." Blair laughed shakily, and kissed Cam's neck. "Yeah, that too."

"I know I don't have words to tell you what you mean to me," Cam continued, her voice choked with feeling. "I don't think anything will ever make you understand except the days turning into weeks and then into months and finally into years--and I'll still be here, loving you."

Blair stroked her hand across Cam's shoulder and down her chest, lingering on her breasts before drawing her fingertips down the center of her abdomen. Cam tensed under her touch, her breath catching.

"There something about touching you that makes me feel like I'm god," Blair said softly into the darkness.

"I know."

"The thought of anyone else--"

"Don't think it. It won't happen."

As if suddenly revitalized, Blair shifted on the bed and straddled Cam's hips. She leaned down with one hand on either side of Cam's shoulders, her breasts inches from Cam's face, her eyes bright with purpose. "I have this thing about what is mine. I don't like to share."

"Neither do I."

"Good," Blair murmured just before she claimed Cam's mouth, the kiss hard and possessive.

The kiss lasted a long time. It was more than a kiss, it was an assertion of belonging and owning and joining. Cam opened herself to the depth of Blair's desire, letting her have whatever she demanded, giving her willingly all that she needed, reveling in the surrender that felt like nothing but freedom.

When Blair pushed down on the bed and placed her hands between Cam's thighs, Cam arched her back and lifted her hips, offering all that she had. When Blair thrust inside her, fast and hard, a light burst behind her eyes, and her fists closed emptily on the air. The power of it struck deep in her bones, and her blood soared beyond her control. Thighs trembling, breath caught between heartbeats, she came soundlessly, unable even to cry out, suspended for an eternity between heaven and earth. Finally, she lay gasping, sweat-soaked and trembling with Blair sagged against her, weakly moaning her name.

Somewhere between love and desire, they slept.

Chapter Twentyfour

Shortly after dawn, Blair was awakened by a faint stirring beside her. She opened her eyes to find Cam seated on the side of the bed, naked. Reaching out one hand, she stroked the length of her spine and asked, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Cam said quickly. Turning in the gray light, she smiled down at her, brushed a lock of hair from Blair's cheek, then leaned to kiss her softly.

"Couldn't sleep?" Blair asked once Cam straightened again. "I must be slipping."

Cam laughed faintly. "Oh no--believe me, you're not. I was just a little restless. I guess I'm used to being up and working by now."

"Lie down," Blair said, taking her lover's hand and drawing her down beside her. When Cam stretched out on her back, Blair raised on one elbow and searched her face. "You want to tell me who she is?"

"I can't."

"Can't or won't?" Surprisingly, her tone held neither anger nor accusation, only the question.

"I don't know precisely who she is. I never have."

"And if you did?"

"Even if I knew her name, I probably wouldn't tell you," Cam confessed.

"To protect her?"

"Partly," Cam replied carefully, watching Blair's face. "But mostly to protect you."

"I heard a rumor that you were paying for sex. Is that true?"

If Cam was surprised by the bluntness of the question, she didn't show it. Her dark eyes held Blair's steadily as she said, "Yes."

"With her?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Blair ran her hand down the center of Cam's abdomen, tracing the muscles etched below the skin, her eyes following the path of sinew and bones down the length of her thighs. The sight never failed to make her think of a form sculpted by an artist. "God only knows, you don't need to."

"It was simpler."

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Simpler?"

"It was easy to schedule; there were no complications; there were no repercussions."

"A simple business arrangement, huh?"

"Something like that."

Blair leaned forward and kissed her, a long slow sensuous kiss that held both reminders of passions past and promises of future pleasures. When she drew back, the corner of her full mouth lifted in a satisfied smile. "Cameron, cut the secret agent stuff. Why did you do it?"

For one of the few times Blair could ever remember, Cam averted her gaze. Silently, she waited for Cam to make a decision, one that she knew was more about them and their future than anything that had happened in the  past. At length, Cam looked at her and answered.

"The day my lover Janet was killed, we'd made love in the morning. But we'd had angry words, too, and we parted angry. I hadn't known the details of a dangerous assignment she was involved in until, as it turned out, it was too late. We kept secrets from each other as a matter of routine. We were both used to living that way. It was comfortable, and I don't think either of us wanted to risk too much. After I watched her die, I couldn't bring myself to make to love anyone else."

"Because you still loved her?" Blair was pleased that her voice did not waver on the words.

"No." Cam blew out a breath. "Because I felt guilty for not having loved her more. I keep thinking maybe I could have changed the way it turned it out if I had."

³I¹m sorry,² Blair whispered.

³It¹s over,² Cam said quietly. She smoothed her palm over Blair¹s thigh. ³But thanks.²

"The woman last night--she's in love with you, you know."

"No," Cam said quickly, her voice adamant. "It wasn't like that."

Blair ran her fingertips along Cam's jaw to the corner of her mouth. "Not for you maybe. Maybe."

"We never shared anything like this, Blair," Cam insisted.

"I'm glad," Blair said honestly. "It makes me wild to think of you making love with her. I can't even contemplate you sharing this with her."

Cam brushed her fingers through the hair at the base of Blair's neck, her thumb moving over the skin behind her ear, a caress at once tender and possessive. "I've never shared anything like this with anyone before."

"I love you, Cam."

"I like the way that sounds."

"Yeah, me, too."

Blair settled down on the bed and rested her head on Cam's shoulder, her hand lying on the arch of Cam's hip, her fingers slowly moving back and forth. As calmly as she could, she asked, "So why was she here last night."

"It's not something you should know about. For security reasons."

"Fuck security. Just tell me."

"Someone is investigating the organization she works for," Cam disclosed reluctantly. "My name has come up. She wanted to warn me."

 "Jesus." Blair pushed away and sat up in bed, brushing her hair back from her face with both hands, suddenly intense and focused. "Who?"

"I don't know. My guess is it's probably an FBI sting operation. I suppose it could be a RICO investigation out of Justice, but I've never heard that this organization has any mob connections. It's hard to know, but everything I was able to find out about them suggested they didn't."

"Can they hurt you with this?"

Cam was silent.

"Damn it, Cameron. Tell me."

"In all likelihood, I would lose my security clearance. If that happens, I'll never do this kind of work again."

"Under any other circumstances, the thought of that would make me happy," Blair said sharply. "But not like this. No one is going to do this to you. What else?"

"I don't know for sure. Apparently there've been questions about your father, too. I have to think that was just a fishing expedition, and even if it were fact, I'm not sure what they could do with the knowledge."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet. If I could find out who was behind it, especially if it were unsanctioned by any official division, I might be able to turn it around on them."

"I know someone I might be able to get information from," Blair said absently, thinking about AJ. AJ had given her Cam's home address after much coercion, but just the same, she had gotten the information.

Cam shot straight up in bed "No. You cannot come anywhere near this. I've jeopardized you just by telling you what I have. Don't you realize that under oath you'd have to reveal what I told you‹and that by knowing, you¹re complicit in the crime? You have to let this go, Blair. I never would have told you any of this if we weren't lovers."

"You can't expect me to stand by and watch someone try to ruin you."

"This may not even be about me. I may just be a sideline to whoever is behind this. Until they make their next move, we don't know what this means."

"Oh, come on," Blair said deprecatingly. "They're sending me pictures of you in bars with women. Who else are they going to send the pictures to, my father's Security Director?"

"Just promise me you¹ll stay out of it, and I promise I'll tell you whatever I discover. Please."

"I'm not going to promise anything right now, because I don't want to lie to you."

"Goddamn it, Blair--"

"You'd do the same in my position."

For a moment, they stared at one another in tense silence until finally Cam nodded once, still muttering under her breath.

"Is there anything else you haven't told me?" Blair asked, her expression resolute.

"One thing," Cam finally admitted.

Blair's heart skipped a beat. "What?"

Cam sighed. "There's going to be a formal inquiry into the operation in New York City."

"An inquiry?"

"My actions are being reviewed." She hesitated, then added reluctantly, "They may ask for my suspension until it's finished."

"When did you learn this?" Blair's voice was steel again.

"I met with Stewart Carlisle last night and he confirmed it."

"Confirmed it? So you knew there was a possibility of this before?"

"It was just a possibility," Cam said uneasily.

"It came up during the debriefings last week, didn't it?" Blair said, her anger escalating. "That's why you left here so suddenly in the middle of the night, and why you haven't been sleeping, and why you look like hell half the time. And you didn't tell me."

"There wasn't anything to tell," Cam insisted. "It hadn't been decided then."

"And while I was relaxing in San Francisco--reading, shopping, talking with your mother-- you knew that this could happen. But you didn't think it was important enough to tell me. Goddamn it, how are we going to have a relationship if this is the way you behave with me."

Cam stared at her, speechless. "I thought we already had a relationship."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it. I love you. It's not just about sex and it's not just about attraction. It's about needing to be with you. It's about needing to be in your life. What's so hard to understand about that?" She threw back the sheets and started to get out of bed. Cam stopped her with a hand on her forearm.

"I'm sorry. I've never done this with anyone. It's a habit--it's what I'm used to. That can change."

"I'm sorry for asking," Blair said, her voice pitched low, her eyes averted.

"No," Cam said forcefully. "Don't apologize for asking me for what you need, especially when it's the right thing for both of us. That's part of this love deal, too, right?"

Blair glanced at her, but said nothing. Cam slid her arm around Blair's waist, pulling her back down on the bed. "From the beginning I've needed you to help me see what I needed. You never let up‹you never gave up. I hope you never do."

Blair smiled at that and curled against the welcoming warmth and strength of her body, murmuring, "You¹re going to drive me crazy."

"Yeah, but I love you like crazy."

"I suppose there is that."

"Before you fall asleep, you need to make a call," Cam said drowsily.

"To who?" Blair mumbled.

"The White House detail commander. When you're not there in the morning, they're going to start a manhunt."

Blair sighed and rolled over, reaching for her cell phone on the bedside table. "I'll call one of my friends on the inside. That should take care of it."

"Good," Cam replied. "Because I have plans for you in the morning."

Chapter Twenty-five

Just after 8:00 a.m., they stepped into the shower together and kissed while the water cascaded over them. Then, they began taking turns soaping each other's body until Cam wordlessly placed the bar on the small shelf behind her, took Blair's shoulders in both hands, and pressed her against the tiled back wall of the shower. With her mouth covering Blair's, she slid her fingers, wet with water and Blair's arousal between Blair's thighs, moving slowly, pushing ever deeper, until she felt the walls of Blair's soul fall before her touch. She held her lover upright with the sheer strength of her arm pinioning her to the wall and the pressure of her hips against Blair's. As she moved within her, drawing her ever closer to a precipice from which there was no return, she felt Blair begin to orgasm against her body, around her hand, and she smiled.

"What was that all about?" Blair gasped a moment later, her eyes still dazed.

"Just this thing I have about what's mine," Cam murmured.

"You made your point quite effectively," Blair commented, slipping her palm to the back of Cam's neck and drawing her close.

"Problem with that?" Cam asked from a breath away.

"Not a one." And then she kissed her.

A few minutes later as Blair toweled her hair, admiring Cam's ass in the mirror, her cell phone rang on the counter nearby. She reached for it and listened for a few seconds. "All right."

Naked, Cam turned and raised an inquiring eyebrow when she saw the expression on Blair's face. "What?"

"You might want to find your jeans," Blair said in an oddly disembodied voice. "My father is on his way upstairs."

*****

The two of them scrambled for their clothes and had barely finished zipping and buttoning when a sharp rap sounded on the door. Cam crossed the living room, peered through the peephole, and pulled open the door.

"Good morning, Mr. President."

"You can wait outside, Tom," Andrew Powell said to the clean-shaven, slender African-American man who stood just behind his right shoulder.

"That would not be advisable, sir," the agent replied in a deep rumbling baritone.

Cam glanced right and then left, noting the positions of the other three agents stationed at intervals in the hallway outside her apartment door. She knew that there are would be at least one agent in each stairwell at the end of the hallway, one in the lobby by the elevator, and several outside in the vehicles. She also knew it was SOP for the president never to be alone with anyone other than immediate family. It was an immutable rule.

"I believe that Secret Service Agent Roberts and my daughter can be trusted," the president said as Cam stepped back to admit him.

As the president passed her, she looked into the angry countenance of the primary agent assigned to protect the most powerful man on the planet, but there was nothing to say. She closed the door and turned around in time to see Blair briefly hug her father before moving away to face him with a question in her eyes.

"What's going on?" Blair asked.

"I'll just wait in the other room," Cam said quietly, turning to walk to the small second bedroom on the opposite side of the living room which served as her study and home office. It occurred to her that both she and Blair looked like they had just stepped from the shower, which of course, they had. Their hair was wet, Blair was without makeup, and both of them were wearing last night's discarded clothing. She glanced surreptitiously around the room, hoping that they hadn¹t left a trail of garments behind.

Jesus, what an impression we must be making.

"I think you should stay, Agent Roberts," Andrew Powell said in a smooth, well modulated tone that didn't sound like the order it was. His expression was mild as he regarded first her and then his daughter, but his deep-blue eyes were laser-sharp.

"Yes, sir.²

He was wearing a navy blue suit, white shirt, and striped tie. He looked collegiate and fit, with a natural tan that was present year-round. She could see Blair in his blue eyes, his physical presence, and his intensity. Irrationally, she liked him just because of that.

 ³Can I get you anything, Mr. President?² Cam asked, not entirely certain what the hell to do with him in her apartment. ³Coffee, maybe?"

³Fine.² He looked from one to the other of them and smiled faintly. "I'd wager that you two are ready for some."

"It'll take a minute," Cam said, trying desperately not to blush.

"Come sit down," Blair said quietly and indicated the sofa and nearby matching chairs grouped in front of the windows. When they were seated, her on the sofa, him on the chair across from her, she asked once again, "What are you doing here?"

"I thought we should talk," her father said, glancing up as Cam joined them.

"About what?"

"About Lucinda Washburn's visit to my office this morning at 6 a.m.²

"Oh," Blair commented. "Well--"

"First of all, it's not my business. If it weren't for the... unusual circumstances we find ourselves in, I wouldn't even bring it up."

"Well, if it weren¹t for our circumstances, neither would Lucinda in all likelihood," Blair commented dryly.

³It a family matter, and Lucinda should have talked to me before bringing it up with you.²

³She was doing her job,² Blair pointed out without animosity. ³I understand that.²

Cam wasn't entirely certain what to do, but she decided that since she had been invited, she would sit where she belonged, next to Blair. Blair glanced at her quickly, almost apologetically, and then regarded her father again.

"There was a picture of me in an...intimate moment in the newspaper," Blair said matter-of-factly. "I'm sorry. It wasn't intended."

"There's no way to avoid publicity." The president shrugged, apparently unconcerned.

"I've tried."

"I'm sorry that you had to."

She was silent, and Cam saw her hands tremble where they rested on her thighs.

"At any rate," the president continued, "I saw it. It seemed innocent enough to me."

"It wasn't a very good image," Blair said flatly. "Next time it might be."

"Lucinda says it¹s a woman with you."

"Yes."

³And you¹ve tried to keep that a secret, too?²

³It seemed the wisest thing to do.²

He sighed. ³If I had more time, I¹d probably be able to do this a little more diplomatically, but I don¹t. I¹m sorry.²

³You don¹t need to be.² Blair¹s voice was uninflected, her face impossible to read. ³Fire away.²

He regarded Blair intently, as if trying to see beneath the cool veneer to the fire below. "Is it serious‹this relationship?"

Cam cleared her throat. "Sir--"

"Yes," Blair interrupted. ³Very.²

"Good. I'm glad to hear it. When were you going to tell me?"

"Uh--" Cam began.

"Eventually," Blair said hurriedly. ³It¹s complicated. I‹³

Cam blew out a breath and leaned forward, meeting the commander-in-chief's gaze steadily. "That would be me in the photo, sir."

"I see." He looked thoughtful for a moment and, then nodded, once. "That further complicates the situation, doesn't it?"

"Dad," Blair said suddenly. "I'd like to keep Cam's name out of things, if I--"

"That's not necessary," Cam interjected swiftly. "I have nothing to hide, sir, nor do I have any regrets."

"The point is," Blair said with a hint of exasperation, "this could be misconstrued, considering her official relationship to me. I don't want there to be any repercussions--"

"I take full responsibility--"

The president laughed. "I can see that Lucinda has absently no idea just how complicated this is."

The three of them stared at one another and then all of them began to laugh, the tension in the room noticeably ebbing. To Cam's surprise, Blair reached over and took her hand.

"Lucinda is concerned about backlash and the potential damage to your re-election campaign," Blair said.

"Yes, I know. She outlined that for me this morning. In detail."

"She has a point," Blair said, her voice subdued. Without realizing it, she closed her fingers tightly around Cam's.

"It's a very difficult thing to gauge," the president said contemplatively. "There are only so many factors we can control--or spin--at one time. I'm sure that someone on my staff will be doing some kind of poll within the next day or so, carefully disguised so that no one will realize they're really talking about us. Then someone else will draw up a list of possible voter responses, and the director of communications will draft a speech, all of which means absolutely nothing in the final analysis."

"There's going to be considerable criticism because it will look like we were trying to hide our relationship," Cam said carefully. "We're likely to anger people on both sides of the fence."

"Well, I'm not certain that Lucinda's suggestion that you put your relationship on hold for more than a year until the nomination is secured is particularly practical or even useful."

Cam stiffened and had to struggle not to look at Blair. Blair hadn't mentioned that request.

"I'm not going to do that," Blair said, her voice calm.

"I'm not asking you to," her father said. "That's why I'm here. Mostly, I wanted to tell you to do whatever you chose in terms of discussing or not discussing your private life with the press. Whatever the consequences, we'll deal with it."

He glanced at his watch, then at Cam. "I have a few minutes, Agent Roberts. Any chance for that coffee now?"

"Right away, sir. And by the way," she said, extending her hand as she stood, "it's Cam."

Smiling, the president shook her hand. "Andrew."

Chapter Twentysix

Fifteen minutes later, after coffee and a conversation that centered on Blair's plans for a gallery showing in the fall, Blair and Cam walked the president to the door. When it closed behind him, they stood staring at one another, both slightly stunned.

"He gets to the point, doesn't he?" Cam remarked.

"He surprised me," Blair admitted, walking to the sofa and resting her hips against the arm, her face contemplative. "He's never asked me anything that personal before."

"Maybe he was waiting for you to bring it up."

"He seemed...okay, don't you think?"

Cam thought about the conversation, although it was hard to be objective when the President of the United States was inquiring about your love life. "Yeah. He seemed...fine." She ran a hand through her hair and grinned at Blair. "Jesus."

"How do you think he knew I was here?"

"Most likely someone on the White House security detail told him. If they really didn't have a very good idea of where you were, they'd have called Mac and he would have called me." That had happened before, but she saw no reason to remind Blair that she had very little true freedom despite appearances.

Blair made a disgusted sound.

"He's the president," Cam pointed out reasonably. "If there's something he wants to know, it's pretty unlikely that he wouldn't be able to find out."

Cam crossed to Blair, took her hand, and drew her around to the front of the sofa, then tugged her down beside her. With Blair's fingers laced in hers, Cam asked quietly, "Why didn't you tell me that Lucinda Washburn doesn't want you to see me anymore?"

"If you'll recall," Blair said pointedly, "we were discussing other matters last evening. And then we weren't discussing anything at all."

Ignoring the evasive answer, Cam persisted. "There was time this morning when we were talking about my problems."

Blair said nothing, and for the briefest moment, she looked away.

"It's not just my problems and my life that we have to share," Cam said gently. "This isn't something you can face by yourself. It involves both of us."

Suddenly, Blair stood and walked to the opposite side of the room. Then she turned, facing Cam across the distance. "I wasn't sure what you would say. I was... afraid that you would agree with her. That you would..."

As Blair's voice trailed off, Cam got to her feet. "You were afraid that I would disappear, weren't you?"

Blair nodded solemnly, the pain swimming in her eyes.

Quickly, Cam crossed the space to her and placed both hands on her shoulders. Then, she found Blair's eyes and held her gaze. "And you're right--a few months ago, that's probably exactly what I would have considered. I don't know that I would've been able to do it--I've never been able to stay away from you.² She skimmed her fingers along Blair¹s rigid jaw. ³Never been able to stop wanting you. But I might have wanted to try."

Blair's eyes darkened, the blue shading nearly to black. Cam felt Blair stiffen under her hand, sensed her desire to run. Holding onto her, she repeated, "A few months ago...maybe. Not now."

"I don't know how I would stand it." Blair¹s voice wavered and she clamped down hard on the old pain. The old pain‹not Cam¹s doing, but so hard to remember that.

"No--neither do I."

Blair wrapped her arms around Cam's waist and stepped into her embrace, the fear that had coiled around her heart since the moment her father had walked into the room loosening its hold. She pressed her lips to Cam's neck, then leaned back to look at her, her voice stronger, the anguish extinguished by the solid reassurance of Cam's body, the certainty of her words.

"That doesn't mean we've heard the end of this," Blair noted. "Just because my father believes that nothing can damage his reputation or hurt his political chances, that doesn't necessarily mean it's true. He is an excellent leader, but sometimes he refuses to believe he's not invincible. He forgets to watch his back."

"I have a feeling that's what Lucinda Washburn is for," Cam commented dryly. And she had a feeling Washburn wouldn¹t give up easily.

"Most definitely. I'm sure we'll be hearing from her again."

Cam drew Blair closer and rested her cheek against her lover's. Softly, she murmured, "Let's deal with that when we have to. For the time being, we'll carry on."

"I love you," Blair whispered.

"I love you." Then Cam sighed, kissed Blair's temple, and stepped back. "We need to call the team and make plans to go back to New York, unless you're staying down here?"

"Not for a moment longer than I have to," Blair said adamantly. "Although if we could stay right here..."

"We could," Cam countered, "but we'd still need to call the team."

"I know," Blair said with a sigh, taking her first real opportunity to survey Cam's apartment in daylight. As she slowly turned, admiring the clean, modern style, her eyes stopped on something familiar on the far wall and she gasped involuntarily.

Cam followed her gaze and grinned.

"When did you get those?" Blair asked, clearly astonished.

"At the gallery opening last winter."

"Did you know?"

Cam regarded the series of charcoal nudes, finding them just as beautiful as she had the first time she¹d seen them. "Yes, I knew they were yours, even though you didn't sign them with your own name.²

³How?² Blair¹s voice was hushed.

³I'd seen the work in your loft the first time I came for a briefing. Your style is very distinctive."

Blair stared at her. "Why did you buy them?"

"Because they're very good." After a beat, she added, "And because you did them."

Their eyes caught and held, a flame jumping between them.

"We don't have to call the team right away, do we?" Blair asked, her voice husky as he moved toward her lover.

Cam swallowed, watching the color rise in Blair's throat, tightening inside. Thickly, she replied, "I think we might have a little bit of time."

*****

"Do you know what I'd really like to do?"

"What?" Cam asked, looking up from where she sat on the side of the bed pulling on her socks and loafers. The whimsical note in Blair's voice made her smile, and she regarded her appreciatively. A faint blush still colored her lover's skin from their recent lovemaking and the memory of it twisted through her, making her unexpectedly catch her breath as if struck.

"I'd like to order a pizza, get two or three videos, and spend the day on the sofa watching bad science fiction movies with you."

Cam stopped what she was doing, her smile turning to an expression of sad understanding. Softly, she said, "I know. I'm sorry that we can't. If I were anyone else--"

"No," Blair said adamantly, crossing quickly to her and stopping between Cam¹s parted thighs, then brushing her fingers through Cam's hair. Looking down, her mouth still bruised with their kisses, she said again, "No. If I were anyone else we might be able to do that. Even if you weren't my security chief, it would still be very difficult for us to do something that simple. Your position may complicate things for us, but it didn't create my problems."

Resting her forehead against Blair's midsection, her arms lightly clasping her lover's waist, Cam murmured, "It won't always be this way."

"I know."

Finally, Cam looked up, her dark eyes swirling with emotion. "I¹d do anything to be able to take you out for a late lunch and then stroll around Dupont circle holding your hand, just letting whatever happens, happen. I'd give you that if I could."

"I believe you." Blair knelt, nestling her body between Cam's legs, her eyes meeting her lover's. "And that's what makes it bearable not being able to do that. Sometimes knowing you understand is the only thing that makes it bearable."

"Christ, I love you," Cam breathed, her fingers lightly tracing Blair's face. Then, Cam kissed her forehead and finally, because she had to, she glanced at her watch. "The team should be downstairs by now. Are you ready?"

Blair lingered for just a moment, her hands slowly caressing Cam's shoulders and chest, unwilling to let her go because she didn't know how long it would be before she could touch her this way again. Then with a sigh, she pushed herself upright, straightened her shoulders, and said firmly, "Yes. I'm ready."

They didn't stop to kiss at the door of Cam's apartment, because their goodbyes had already been said, but instead, they walked directly to the elevator, waited for the doors to open, and then rode down to the lobby in silence. They stood close together, their arms lightly touching.

As they crossed the brightly lit room toward the front doors, beyond which Cam could see the Suburban idling with several agents inside and Stark waiting by the rear door, the building's security guard called out, "Excuse me. There's a package for you, Ms. Roberts.²

At her look of surprise, he added, ³The courier said not to call up, but that I should give it to you when you came downstairs."

"Courier?" Instinctively, Cam glanced around the lobby, one hand unbuttoning her blazer for access to her weapon. Other than the security guard, she and Blair were alone. Nevertheless, she spoke quickly into her wrist microphone. "Mac, secure the street. Stark--inside."

Outside, the Suburban's doors flew open and agents piled out, weapons drawn. Cam positioned her body between Blair and the glass front doors, one hand cupped lightly under Blair's right elbow, blocking a direct sightline from the outside to the president¹s daughter while waiting for Stark to enter the building and take her place.

"What is it?" Blair asked urgently.

"Probably nothing," Cam said in a low voice. "But it's unusual for anything to be delivered to me here. No one should have this address except for Treasury, and they don¹t leave anything without an ID and a signature."

"What--"

Stark approached at a near run and Cam instructed, "Escort Ms. Powell to the vehicles and evacuate to fifteen hundred yards. Do it now."

 Then she looked at the guard and said, "Step away from the desk."

Her tone left no room for question and to his credit, he didn't. He simply slid off his stool and moved hurriedly around the front of the waist-high partition which enclosed the building's closed-circuit security monitors.

"Cam?" Blair protested, her voice rife with alarm as Stark began to direct her to the door.

"Evacuate her, Stark," Cam ordered without turning back, walking around the partition and studying the package sitting on the shelf. It was an oversized manila envelope, the kind that had been delivered to Blair's apartment the day before. Without touching it, she leaned closer and studied the hand printed address written in bold magic marker. There was no return address. Outside the vehicles screamed away from the curb.

Chapter Twentyseven

She had no reason to suspect that it was incendiary or explosive, especially since it had already been handled with no particular regard for caution by the security guard. She lifted it by the corner. It was light, and she suspected that it held photographs or documents of some kind.

"Should I call for a bomb squad?" the guard asked, his voice high with tension.

"No. Thanks. I've got it."

Clearly stunned by the rapid evacuation of the remarkably familiar-appearing blond and just as taken aback by 17 B's commanding attitude, he merely nodded and said, "Yes, ma'am."

She flashed him a wave as she walked out the door. Once outside, she began walking north and radioed Mac a location to pick her up. A few minutes later, the lead Suburban, Stark at the wheel, appeared and pulled up beside her.

Once settled in the back with Blair across from her, she leaned forward and said through the privacy partition, ³All clear for the airport, Stark. Nice execution, by the way."

When she turned back, she was nearly pinned to seat by the fire shooting from Blair's blue eyes.

"Was that really necessary?" Blair demanded.

"I could hardly let you stand there if there was any possibility that someone had delivered a volatile package," Cam said reasonably.

"Oh, but it's okay if you get blown into a few million pieces?" Blair asked, biting off each word as she fisted her hands by her sides to stop the trembling.

"There was very little chance of that, considering that the guard had already handled it--unless someone was watching for me to pick it up and triggered the device with a remote detonator. It was very unlikely that it could be harmful."

"But you were careful enough to get me out of the building."

Of course," Cam said with a hint of genuine confusion in her voice. "Even the slightest risk to you is unacceptable."

"You don't have any idea what this does to me, do you?" Blair said incredulously.

"It was just routine, Blair," Cam began. "I--"

"Do you have any idea how I felt watching you get hit that day?" Blair said in a low, tormented voice as if Cam hadn't spoken. Almost as if Cam was no longer there. "Do you know what that did to me to see you lying on the sidewalk, blood pouring from your chest, knowing you were dying? Knowing I couldn¹t touch you--couldn't stop it? That I was losing you, too?"

Cam's face drained of color. Her voice was hoarse as she whispered, ³Yes. I know."

Stunned by the transformation in her usually imperturbable lover, Blair suddenly realized what she had said, and she knew, too, that Cam had experienced almost the same thing the day her lover had died. "Jesus, Cameron, I'm sorry. I didn't think."

Cam held up her hand. "No. It's all right." She cleared her throat, chased the demons away. "I never realized...I'm sorry. I would never want you to go through that again."

"I can't seem to get used to you putting me first," Blair said, leaning forward, her fingers touching Cam¹s hand. "Not just physically--all of it. It will take a little practice."

"I don't put you first just because of the job, Blair," Cam said emphatically. "I do it because I love you, and I know that if the situation called for it, you'd do the same."

Blair nodded, knowing Cam was right. It wasn't so much about who protected whom, but much more about the urgency they both felt to keep the other safe. She would die before she let anyone harm Cam.

"Just don't get hurt, OK?" Blair said, her voice breaking.

"I won't. I promise."

As the vehicles turned off the road into the airport, they smiled at each other, peace following in the wake of trust.

*****

Once on the plane, after everyone was situated, Blair asked Cam, "Are you going to open that envelope?"

Cam regarded the still unopened package and shook her head. "Not yet. There may be some kind of forensic evidence on the contents. I'd like to open it somewhere where it can be examined properly."

"Do you know of someone you can trust to do that for you?"

"Maybe. Savard has been helping out." At Blair's raised eyebrow, she clarified, "Stark¹s suggestion. And a good one.  I'll call her when we get to New York City."

"I want to be there."

Cam's first reaction was to say no, and then she realized that she couldn't. It was likely that whatever was inside had something to do with her or Blair or both of them, and she had promised Blair that she would not shut her out. She didn't like it, because her instinct was to keep Blair far away from anything that might potentially endanger her--emotionally or physically. But they had gone too far for that now. "All right."

Pleased, Blair rested her fingers on Cam's thigh. "Thank you."

*****

It was early evening by the time they landed in New York and made the trek into Manhattan to Blair's apartment. As they disembarked in front of the building, Cam said to Stark, "Would you mind staying a few moments, Agent?"

Stark, who was technically off-shift, and who had already worked twenty-four hours overtime with the unexpected trip to DC, and who had missed her date with Savard in the bargain, said immediately, "No problem. I'll be in the command center."

"Very good."

The agents sorted themselves out, some proceeding upstairs with Stark for the evening shift and others signing out for the night. Alone, Cam and Blair took the keyed elevator to Blair's apartment.

Once inside, Cam said, "I need to give Mac a call and see if he's turned up anything."

Blair dropped her overnight bag inside the door. "Are you hungry? I can fix us something."

Cam shed her jacket but kept her shoulder harness on over her blended-silk dress shirt. "That would be great. I'll give you a hand in a minute."

Smiling, Blair shook her head. "Just do what you need to do."

Cam settled into one of the fabric sling chairs which, along with the sofa, defined the loft¹s central living area and picked up the phone. She dialed and after a minute said, "It's Roberts. Where are you?...turn up anything...do you have the tapes?... okay, fine. Call me when you get in."

Sighing, she replaced the receiver and came around the breakfast bar into the kitchen where Blair was slicing mushrooms on a cutting board. A pot of water boiled on the cook top to her right.

"Can I do something?"

"Plates. What did he say?" Blair asked as she rinsed several tomatoes under the faucet and then cubed them.

"The security guard didn't have much more to offer than what he'd already told me. The package was dropped off at 7:52 this morning."

"Huh--just before my father arrived. Does that mean anything?"

"I don't know. I doubt it."

"What did he say about the courier?"

"He doesn't remember anything in particular except that it was a woman--Caucasian, medium height, twenty-five, maybe thirty. Mac has the tapes and is bringing them back here. We'll compare them to the surveillance tapes we have from downstairs when the first envelope was delivered here yesterday."

"A woman delivered it?" Blair inquired in surprise. ³Both times?²

³Apparently.² Cam shrugged. "That probably doesn't mean anything either. Half the couriers are women these days. Besides, it's doubtful that whoever is behind this would deliver it in person. But we have to check it out."

"I suppose you¹re right," Blair said contemplatively as she placed a handful of pasta in the boiling water.

"What?" Cam asked, noting Blair's expression.

"It's probably nothing."

"What is it? At this point, we can't afford to overlook anything."

"I thought it was really funny when I called my friend AJ to get your home address last night. She was very reluctant to give it to me."

"AJ? Who's she?"

"An FBI agent stationed at Bureau headquarters in DC. She's an information specialist."

"And she's been feeding you classified information?" Cam exclaimed incredulously. "Holy Christ. She could lose her job for that--or worse."

"She's discreet, and I don't ask her for much. We're old friends from prep school."

"I never realized you had such a network of insiders," Cam said appreciatively. That explains a lot about how she's been able to keep such a low profile about her private life all these years. She's had help keeping the information under wraps.

It was Blair's turn to shrug. Then she grinned sheepishly. "I've had a long time to acquire them.²

"So," Cam continued, "you think your friend has something to do with this? How well do you know her?"

Blair smiled enigmatically.

³Ah ha,² Cam said, arching an eyebrow. ³Recently?²

There was just a touch of heat in her voice.

Blair laughed. ³Not what you¹re thinking, surprisingly enough. I covered for her a few times when she was out all night on a date, back when the schools actually tried to keep track of such things. She¹s the daughter of a Senator‹one who gave my father a run for his money in the primaries, actually. We have a lot in common.²

³And you trust her?²

³Absolutely.²

³Enough to tell her about this?²

Blair hesitated as she dished out pasta and sautéed vegetables. ³Yesterday morning I would have said yes. Last night she soundedŠodd. Like she wanted to say something, but didn¹t.²

³Or couldn¹t,² Cam countered.

They carried the plates to the breakfast bar and sat side by side.

³What do you mean?²

 ³Did you talk to her at work?²

³Yes. But I was circumspect. I didn¹t use your name.²

³Still,² Cam said around bites, ³she has to know everything going in and out of there is taped. And besides, maybe she¹s more loyal to the Bureau than to you, especially if she thinks I¹m dirty. Remember, she doesn¹t know me at all.²

³I hadn¹t considered that,² Blair said softly. The thought of anyone, but especially a friend, thinking that about Cam bothered her. She was at once angry and saddened. Unconsciously, she dropped her hand onto Cam¹s thigh, stroking her softly. ³Do you think I should try talking to her?²

"Not yet. Maybe we'll know more after we see what's in the newest delivery," Cam mused, covering Blair¹s hand with hers. "As soon as we're done, I'm going to find out if Savard is available to walk us through the lab."

"Cam, it's almost 8:00. Do you really think she'll be able to do anything tonight?"

"The Bureau's open twenty-four hours a day. We can always ask."

Chapter Twenty-eight

Twenty minutes later, Cam, perched on a stool at the breakfast bar, used the nearby wall phone to call down to the command center and asked for Stark.

"Yes, Commander?"

"I'd like to arrange a meeting with Special Agent Savard this evening. I¹d like you to come along."

"Sure. Absolutely," Stark said, then added hastily, "yes, ma'am."

"Would you happen to have the number where she's staying?"

"Uh--right here, yes," Stark, who had just finished talking to Renee moments before, responded. "Would you like me to call, or..."

"Best let me do that. But thanks."

Stark gave her the number and Cam jotted it down. "Fine. Would you get one of the vehicles and wait for us downstairs, please."

Us, Stark thought. Huh.

"Roger, Commander."

After Cam hung up from, Blair asked, "Are you sure we should involve them?"

"No, not really.² Cam swiveled around on the stool until her back was to the counter and regarded Blair, who stood a few feet in front of her. Tiredly, Cam rubbed her eyes. The headache was back. ³But unfortunately, we need to do some digging and some legwork, and I don't see that we have much choice. Hopefully, if things go bad, I can keep them out of it."

"Go bad?" Blair worked to keep her voice casual.

"If I'm wrong, and I really am the primary target of whoever is digging around in D.C., then something may break--or leak--pretty soon. If I go down in a big way, I don't want anyone else going with me."

"That's not going to happen," Blair said emphatically, eyes blazing.

"We have to be prepared for that event. And if it happens, you're going to need to get distance, too."

"No."

Softly, Cam said, "It will have to be done. I would want it that way even if you weren't the first daughter. If this turns out to be some junior reporter's bid for fame, and it becomes an exposition piece on degeneracy in the nation's capitol or security breaches within the Secret Service or God knows what else--the story will be huge. If that happens, the spin will all be bad, and your name and your father's name can't be linked to it." Before Blair could object, Cam added, "You know I'm right."

"Define what you mean by distance, Cameron," Blair said steadily, the edge in her voice so sharp it would have cut glass. "A week, a month--six goddamned years?"

"Please, Blair," Cam said wearily. "Do you honestly think I'd want that? You can't think it would be easy for me, can you?"

There was no fire in her voice, only a deep sadness. It was one of the few times Blair had ever seen Cam show even the slightest hint of defeat. It was so unusual, it shocked her free of her anger. Suddenly, she saw with brutal clarity that Cam was facing the potential destruction of her career as well as the threat to their relationship. Immediately, she went to her and slipped her arms around Cam¹s shoulders, pressing Cam's cheek against her breasts. To her surprise, Cam's arms came around her waist and tightened. Blair could feel her trembling.

Tenderly, she kissed the top of Cam¹s head. "It's going to be okay. We'll figure out what this is all about and we'll find out who's behind it and we'll put an end to it. Whatever happens, there's no way you're getting rid of me."

"I'd die for you without even thinking about it," Cam murmured hoarsely. "But I can't imagine living without you. Not now."

Listening to Cam's words, Blair pulled her lover closer still, a strange peace suffusing her.

"You don't have to worry, because you won't have to."

*****

Forty-five minutes later, Stark, Cam, and Blair stood outside the rear entrance of a nondescript six-story stone building in midtown Manhattan. Precisely at the designated time, Savard keyed the security lock and opened the door.

³Commander,² she said when she saw Cam, her eyes moving over Stark¹s face with a faint smile, then stopping in surprise when they met Blair¹s. ³Good evening, Ms. Powell.²

³Hi,² Blair replied. ³How are you feeling, Renee?²

³Okay. I¹ll be better when I can get out of this damn thing,² Savard said, indicating the sling tethering her left arm to her chest. ³Come inside. The security cameras are timed back here. We¹ve got a few minutes.²

Savard led them through a warren of beige hallways that were indistinguishable from one another. All the office doors were closed and the harsh fluorescent lights spaced at intervals overhead cast everything in the same impersonal institutional glare. Opening the door to a stairwell, she said, "The lab¹s on the third floor. There's a video camera in the main elevators, and I thought we might as well walk."

"Good idea," Cam replied. It was doubtful that anyone would actually go through the routine surveillance tapes in the absence of any reason to do so, but the less time their little group was recorded, the better.

The three of them climbed single file and then walked silently through yet another corridor to the last door on the right. Savard pushed it open and they stepped into a large open space divided into work stations by laboratory benches and tables containing high tech analytical equipment.

Since most of the technicians who worked in the lab were regular eight-to-fivers, the vast area was empty save for a lone white-coated figure hunched over a lab bench at the far end of the room. As the group approached him, Savard called out, "Hey, Sammy."

A pale, bespectacled young man with a thatch of red hair badly in need of a cut and a mildly befuddled expression on his face, glanced in their direction. Then, as if suddenly remembering an appointment, he smiled broadly. "Hey, Renee. You got something for me?"

"Yep.² Savard pointed to the manila envelope in Cam's hand. ³I need you to take a look at whatever's inside. I don't need to tell you the routine. Anything you can give us will be helpful."

His hands were covered in thin latex gloves, which he stripped off and replaced with a new pair from a cardboard box by his right elbow. Despite the fact that he must have realized that dozens of people had already handled the envelope, he took it from Cam with stainless steel tongs and laid it on a nearby glass surface. With a magnifying glass, he bent down to examine the surface, pausing for a few seconds over the hand-printed address.

Mumbling to himself, he remarked, "Standard magic marker, no postmark, nothing distinctive about the packaging."

He straightened and picked up the envelope. "Give me a few minutes and I'll see what I can turn up. I¹ll scan it for hand-writing analysis if you need that done later."

"Okay, great. We'll be in the conference room," Savard said, indicating a door in the far corner of the room.

"Uh-huh," he said distractedly, his mind clearly somewhere else already.

The four of them settled into chairs around the small table in the unadorned windowless room in the rear of the forensic analysis lab. The silence as they regarded one another speculatively was broken when Blair said, "How do you know he's not going to make a record of all of this?"

Her tone held no censure, merely curiosity.

"I've known him since we were cadets," Savard replied. "He's a genius with anything that's quantifiable, but he's a lousy marksman and not particularly agile in the physical department either. Somehow, we ended up being workout partners and I spent a lot of extra time helping him prepare for the things that didn't come easily. We¹re friends, and he¹s loyal.²

³What about the content? It could be‹sensitive,² Cam pointed out.

³He doesn't care what's in there; he only cares what's on it. Fingerprints, fiber, bodily fluids. That¹s what makes an impression on him. If it's a photograph like the first one you gave me yesterday, he won't even notice the subject matter."

"Did he find anything on that one?" Cam inquired, this being the first opportunity she'd had to ask.

Savard should her head. "No, that's why I didn't bother calling you when I found out the results. You'd already left for DC at that point, and I figured it could wait. It was a copy, probably scanned, of the original--computer generated. It wasn't made from the negative."

"Which means," Cam mused, "that it may have been made by someone who didn't have physical access to the original file."

"Or by someone who was pressed for time," Stark noted. "If you're looking through material that you don't have clearance for, you don¹t bother doing anything except making quick copies."

"Could be."

"Are you saying we weren't really supposed to get it?" Blair queried.

"Maybe we've been looking at this the wrong way,² Cam theorized. ³Maybe these packages aren't threats, but warnings."

"Warnings? You mean someone is trying to tell us that we're being...looked at?"

Cam nodded. "Maybe these are friendly messages."

"Why don't I feel reassured?" Blair said sarcastically.

³You have a point,² Cam agreed with a sigh. "Maybe once we see what's in this one, it will make a little more sense."

Thirty minutes later, Sammy returned. He handed Savard the envelope, the contents presumably inside.

"I didn't bother with everything this time. The preliminary run through shows exactly what the other one did--nothing. Whoever sent it knew what they were doing. There are no prints; nothing distinguishing about the paper--standard commercial brand; it¹s printed on an inkjet printer. Computer-generated. Just like the other one."

"Can you narrow down the printer?" Stark asked.

He glanced at her, then at Blair, who sat beside her. Quickly, he averted his gaze. If he recognized her, he gave no sign of it, but he kept his eyes fixed on Savard, the person he was clearly most comfortable addressing. "I analyzed the pixel register on the first print. It's an Epson high-end printer. We've got one down the hall. Standard government issue, as well as the one used by most desktop publishers or almost any other business doing high quality photo reproductions."

"If you had a sample from the precise printer, could you match them?" Cam persisted.

"Possible. I'm not sure it would hold up in court, though."

"It doesn't have to," she said flatly.

Since it was evident that they weren't going to get any more information, Savard held out her hand. ³Thanks, Sammy.²

"No problem,² he said, blushing as he shook her hand. ³Anytime."

Without looking at them, he sketched a small wave in the air, turned, and hurried back to his bench.

"Well," Blair said on a long exhalation. "I guess we can see what it is now."

"Let's get out of here first," Cam suggested. ³Before we wear out our welcome.²

Cautiously, Savard offered, "I've got my sister¹s apartment to myself. She's working tonight. We could do it there...unless you're headed back to command central?"

"No," Cam said. "I¹d like you and Stark to see this. Your sister's apartment sounds fine."

Chapter Twenty-nine

The four of them had barely settled into the Suburban with Stark behind the wheel, when Cam's cell phone rang.

"Roberts."

She listened for a moment, then handed the phone to Savard. "It's Mac. Can you give him directions to your sister¹s? He¹s got some information for us and I want him to be there when we take a look at our latest present."

Nodding, Savard quickly gave Mac the information.

Fifteen minutes later, they were settling into the small but comfortable living room of an apartment in Chelsea. The furnishings were worn but had once been expensive, and the space beneath the windows and most other available niches were filled with plants of all description, adding a sense of warm welcome that was distinctly different than the impersonal apartments and hotel rooms most of them were used to spending their time in.

Cam noted with satisfaction a work area in a small alcove adjoining the living room that contained a desk, high end video equipment, and a state of the art computer system.

"You think we can use that to look at the tapes Mac has?" she asked, indicating the electronic array with a tilt of her head.

"Sure," Savard said, "as long as it's your paycheck guaranteeing against any damage."

Cam smiled. "I'll put it in writing."

Rene walked through to a tiny kitchen and called over her shoulder, "What does everyone want to drink?"

As they were chorusing their answers, the buzzer rang and Stark crossed to the door and pushed the intercom. "Hello?"

"Phillips, here."

"Three C," Stark reminded him as she held down the button, releasing the security lock on the front door.

A moment later, she opened the door for Mac and, after greetings all around, they found seats on the sofa facing the small coffee table and a grouping of nearby chairs.

"I guess I'll go first," Cam said grimly from where she sat on the sofa next to Blair.

Savard had cleared a space in the center of the coffee table and as everyone leaned nearer, she reached into the manila envelope. There were two glossy sheets which Cam separated and placed on the table for all to see. Everyone shifted so they could look at the images from the proper perspective.

The first required little in the way of comment. Both had again been taken from a distance, but the first, shot in broad daylight, was of good quality and both her face and Blair's were clearly recognizable. So was the fact that their hands were linked as they leaned into one another in what could only be interpreted as an intimate moment.

"How the hell--" Stark exploded.

"That's the deck at the rear of my mother's house," Cam said, for Savard's elucidation. "The rest of you recognize the location, I presume. It was taken at approximately 0800 hours the last day of Ms. Powell's stay in San Francisco."

"I wonder where they were?" Blair murmured, a cold chill making her shiver. It wasn't so much that someone had been watching; it wasn't even that she and Cam had been captured in a private moment--a moment that she remembered very well.

"I'll be sorry to leave here," Blair said quietly.

Cam moved her left hand along the rail until it covered Blair's right. Their shoulders were nearly touching, but only someone on the deck with them could have seen the movement. Automatically, their fingers entwined, thumbs brushing over the tops of each other's hand.

"Yes, so will I. I've been here before, but it takes being here with you to make me realize how beautiful it is. Being with you makes the entire world look different."

For a moment, Blair was speechless. It was one of those times when Cam took her completely by surprise, and it was just the way she had always imagined that being in love would feel. She had just never imagined she would ever feel it herself. "We don't have to leave that feeling here, do we?"

Cam met her gaze again, marveling at the myriad shades of blue that moved in the depths of her lover's eyes. "No. We don't. Let's make sure we don't."

It was a moment that she would never want to forget. What bothered her was that someone else has been silent witness to something that was beautiful and now they were trying to turn into something ugly.

"Anywhere," Cam side flatly. "A nearby rooftop, an apartment on an adjoining street, up a goddamned tree--anywhere with the sightline. If I'd known then what we know now, I would have paid more attention to that avenue of access to you. I didn't anticipate a photographer stalking us." Unconsciously, she rubbed her temple, annoyed at the pain which was surging again.

Blair regarded her with concern. When this is over, Cam is taking a vacation.

"What about the other one?" Savard asked quietly. "Do you know her?"

Savard's eyes were on Blair, who was staring at the photo. It was grainy, and of poorer quality than the one taken in San Francisco, but the faces of the two women who stood in the circle of light cast by a street lamp in front of Cam's apartment building in Washington, D.C. were quite clear.

"No, not precisely," Blair said evenly.

No one spoke, nor asked for further explanation. Despite the unusual circumstances, their training ruled. Federal agents did not question the private life of the first daughter.

"I think Ms. Powell and I need to speak alone for a few minutes," Cam said into the silence.

As everyone began to rise, Blair said, "No, stay." Glancing at Cam, she smiled wryly. "They're all in it now, and I have nothing to hide."

Cam sighed and studied the faces of the three agents sitting shoulder to shoulder across from her.

"I don't know where all this is going. Maybe nowhere." She lifted the photos and let them fall back to the table. "Maybe straight to the AP hotline and the front page of every newspaper in the country."

She had everyone's attention.

"I know this woman," Cam said, pointing to Claire in the photograph. "She's an escort with a highly exclusive service in D.C. She and Ms. Powell have no relationship whatsoever."

"That might be difficult to disprove after this,² Stark pointed out in as non-accusatory a tone as she could manage.

Blair laughed shortly. "I'm certain that's precisely what this is meant to imply."

"Well," Cam said bitterly. "It seems that someone is tightening the noose. First we have a leak to the press about Blair's secret relationship. Then, obviously, we have documentation of the two of us together in a position that would be hard to explain away." She glanced quickly at Blair. "Even if we wanted to. And now," she finished, pointing to the photo of Blair and Claire, "we have the connection between myself, Ms. Powell, and an escort service. All highly inflammatory business in DC."

"I'm sorry," Stark said ingenuously. "What link is there between you and the escort?"

"I know this woman in the photograph because I've been involved with her, professionally."

"Oh." Stark blushed but held Cam's gaze. "Can anyone prove that?"

Shrugging, Cam replied, "I have no idea."

"Well," Mac said briskly. "That's one of the things we're going to have to find out. And from the looks of things, pretty quickly."

"I agree," Savard said firmly. "We need to devise strategy, divide up the work, and narrow down the suspects in short order--before this whole thing spins out of control."

"Suspects?" Blair said in surprise.

"Yes," Cam said, looking at Savard. She and the FBI agent were the only two people in the room with true investigative experience. Stark and Mac had both been part of the protective arm of the Secret Service their entire careers. "Who stands to gain by this?"

"Well, as you mentioned before," Blair mused. "Any reporter who uncovers an elite escort service in Washington D.C. that caters to government employees and visiting dignitaries would certainly garner quite a reputation. It's a career maker and reason enough."

"That¹s true," Mac said. "Except it seems unlikely that a reporter would also be interested in impugning your reputation. That would only piss off the White House. So why release the photo of you and the Commander to the newspaper before the story breaks? In fact, why involve you at all?"

"Point taken," Blair agreed.

"What about Patrick Doyle?" Stark offered, carefully not looking at Renee Savard. "He hasn't been happy since the Commander upstaged him in the capture of Loverboy--"

"Before that, really," Mac interjected. "He's always had it in for her."

Stark nodded eagerly. "If he's behind it, that would explain a photograph of the Commander with the woman in the bar. She could have been an FBI agent or just a decoy he set up. We all know the FBI has been known to shadow public figures to gather information on them."

"I don't disagree with any of that," Savard said calmly. "But this looks like a much bigger operation than one man could possibly orchestrate. Especially if you're talking about infiltrating and exposing a very well-shielded escort service that's obviously been operating undetected for a long time. That takes undercover agents and people with computer expertise who can access IRS records, phone records, trace calls--the whole nine yards. Doyle couldn't do that on his own."

"Besides," Blair pointed out, "none of this explains why we are getting these cryptic messages. If they were threats, why hasn't something been demanded? Why hasn't someone asked for money or threatened to go public if Cam doesn't resign or put pressure on me to intervene with my father about some upcoming vote?"

"Maybe," Cam muttered, "maybe it's a little of all of the above."

Four sets of eyes stared at her questioningly.

Chapter Thirty

Cam thought aloud. "Maybe there is a political and a personal agenda at work here. Maybe the FBI or a Justice division or both is gathering information for some future political purpose. Maybe Doyle is part of it or knows someone who is. If he's privy to what's going on, he may have discovered my involvement with the escort service by chance. Maybe he's taking advantage of that knowledge."

"How?" Mac asked warily.

Cam met his eyes. "Stewart Carlisle informed me yesterday that Justice has initiated an independent investigation into what happened in New York. They're looking at me, specifically. I could be suspended at any time."

Mac and Stark exploded together with a series of expletives and outraged remonstrations. At length, Cam held up her hand to still them.

"For some reason, Carlisle hasn't put up much of a roadblock, which I find unusual. All I can figure is if there is a large-scale operation in place to exert influence using blackmail tactics, maybe he's in a crunch, too."

"Can something like that really be happening?" Blair asked incredulously. "We're not talking about the Hoover administration here."

"It didn't all stop in the mid-70s when Hoover was forced to retire," Savard said regretfully. "It's just gotten more subterranean. It's been rumored for some time that the new Director--whose appointment your father opposed, I might add--has been pushing Justice hard for permission to use surveillance in the private sector, including electronic wiretaps and computer investigation into corporate and private accounts, ostensibly under the guise of national security."

"All right," Blair interjected. "So if there is some covert group of high-level intelligence agents, or politicians, or both gathering information, what would be the reason?"

"Almost anything," Cam said grimly. "Anything from controlling promotions within various departments to influencing who will be the next party nomination for president. That's what's so dangerous about these operations. Information gathered today might be used a decade from now to force someone's vote in a critical Congressional decision or be used to place a candidate sympathetic to law enforcement in a newly created cabinet position. When, where, and how intelligence is used can't always be projected--which makes it impossible to neutralize. That's also what makes it so potent a weapon."

"For the time being," Savard said emphatically, "we need to concentrate on discovering as much as possible about who's behind this." She stared at the opposite wall for a second and then began ticking off points on one hand. "Mac--you've already been looking into the reporter who provided the first photograph to the Associated Press, right?"

He nodded. "I should have a name by morning."

"Good. What we need is to work backwards from there. The reporter needs to be interviewed and if they won¹t provide a source, we need to dig deep into his or her background. There has to be a connection to someone in D.C. Whoever leaked the photograph almost certainly used someone they knew and trusted."

"Fine. I've got that," Mac said. "I've also got the video tapes of the couriers who delivered the packages. I'll run their scanned images through the DMV, NCIC, and Armed Forces data banks. If I can ID them, I'll interview them."

"Try for a match with the registered courier services in New York and D.C., too," Cam added. "They have to be bonded, so they'll have photos. I doubt our Deep Throat used a service, but you never know."

Mac nodded.

"Two--Stark and I will run background checks on everyone associated with you, Commander," Savard said evenly. "We'll need a list of friends, lovers, professional associates--anyone who could be remotely connected."

At Cam's raised eyebrows, Savard continued, "We have to assume that if there is a personal agenda in addition to a political one, you are the epicenter."

"All right, Savard. You'll get the list."

"We'll need the name of the woman in the photograph, too," Stark said evenly.

Cam shook her head. "I don't know it."

Everyone, including Blair, looked at her in surprise.

"The service was highly discreet and took extensive precautions to provide anonymity to both clients and personnel."

"I suppose if we have to, we could run this photo through the national databanks, too," Stark offered.

"She's not involved," Cam said with certainty. "And I'd like to keep her out of it if at all possible."

"Understood," Savard said briskly. "On the other hand, it might become necessary."

"If it does," Cam said thoughtfully, "there's a wine glass in my dishwasher in D.C. that will have her fingerprints on it."

Cam glanced sideways at Blair, concerned about her response to that fact, but Blair just smiled faintly and shook her head. Cam grinned fleetingly, then turned her attention back to Savard.

"Well then," Savard said with satisfaction. "If we need it, we'll go get it. For now, I¹ll settle for the numbers you used to contact her, and how you identified yourself."

³Done.² Cam hesitated. "There's one other thing that needs to be done. We need to run background checks on everyone in Ms. Powell¹s security detail. There may be an association with a political figure or a previous intelligence assignment that ties in with this."

"It can't be one of us," Mac exclaimed. "What would be the point? The Secret Service exists to protect the lives, and by extension, the reputations of public figures--not destroy them."

Cam shrugged. "Maybe one of us is doing double duty and working for the FBI or a Justice department probe."

"That would be unbelievable," Stark said vehemently.

"People are known to do many things for career advancement," Cam pointed out. "It has to be done, but it¹s not fair to put you two on that. I'll do it myself."

Both Mac and Stark nodded glumly.

"The last thing we need is a computer cracker," Savard said. "We need to get into the FBI and Justice files. And we¹ll need to break the escort ring, too."

Everyone in the room looked at each other.

"Well, none of us qualifies," Cam remarked.

"Felicia does," Mac said quietly.

"No way," Cam said stridently. "I've already involved too many people. Plus, she's new to the group and we don't know her well enough yet."

"I know her," Mack said firmly. "I'll vouch for her, Commander."

Cam studied him seriously for a moment, then shook her head again. "I just can't do it, Mac. I've already endangered all of you by involving you in this operation. I can't bring in anyone else, because I can't offer any kind of protection."

"What if she volunteers?" Mac persisted.

"Besides," Stark pointed out reasonably. "If somebody brings you down, it's going to taint all of us--and we'll all be out of a job anyhow."

"I have to agree with both of them, Commander," Savard said. "If we can't get into the files, we're never going to get a complete picture of how deep this goes and who might be behind it. If we don't use our own internal resources, we'll have to go out on a limb and involve an outsider. That's even more dangerous than using someone we've only known for a short time." She paused, then added more softly, "I don't think anyone here doubts that Felicia can be trusted."

Cam rubbed her face with both hands. "It sounds like I'm out-voted, then."

Blair moved a little closer to Cam on the sofa and rested her hand on Cam's knee. "You don't have to worry, Commander. It won't happen very often."

Everyone laughed, and for the first time in more than a week, Cam's headache completely vanished.

"Well," Cam said, surveying her friends and colleagues. "It looks like we've got our work cut out for us. We're running against the clock, only I don't know how much time we have‹not much, I¹m sure. What we do know is that Ms. Powell is due to go abroad in a little over three days. I don't want this to follow her to Paris."

"Felicia may be the key," Mac said. "The files are the only thing that will give us hard evidence--unless we can find a primary witness."

"Maybe Deep Throat?" Blair asked hopefully.

"Possible," Stark commented. "Except he--or she--clearly doesn't want to be found. If they're friendly, and I tend to agree that's the most likely scenario, for some reason they're afraid to approach you directly. It's not going to be easy to draw them out."

"I'll brief Davis personally in the morning," Cam said, unable to hide her bone-deep weariness. "But, I'm going to urge her not to do this. She's at the most risk. If she can crack their computers, someone on the other end can no doubt can track her back here."

"I don't think so, Commander," Mac said with certainty and an unexpected note of pride. "She was assigned to go after Loverboy because she's one of the best computer hackers in the world. I have a feeling she knows how to cover her tracks when she's breaking in someone's back door."

"Let's hope so," Cam rejoined, still unhappy about involving yet another agent. "We'll see after I've talked with her."

"I'm going to see her tonight," Mac offered quickly. "With your permission, Commander, I can brief her. It will save time."

"Whoa, Mac," Savard jibed, her blue eyes twinkling. "Fast worker."

He blushed, but his grin was pleased. "Not that fast--she said no the first six times I asked her out." He cleared his throat, suddenly serious. "Commander?"

Cam glanced at the faces of those around her and knew the decision had already been made. Sighing, she shrugged. "Go ahead, Mac. Bring her up to date on everything we've got so far."

Mac gathered his briefcase and placed the envelope with the photographs inside along with the surveillance tapes. "I'll speak with you in the morning then, Commander."

"Let's plan on a noon meeting for updates all around." She glanced at Blair. "Is it all right if we meet in the Aerie?"

"Of course," Blair said.

"Let's everyone try to get some down time then," Cam suggested as she waved good night to Mac. Turning to Blair's primary guard, she asked, "Ready to go, Stark?"

Stark hesitated, glancing quickly at Savard. Before she could speak, Blair interrupted.

"I thought I'd spend the evening at Diane's, Cam. You can take me there, can't you?"

"Of course. Stark, you're officially off duty now anyhow. I'll call the command center and have someone meet us downstairs and escort Ms. Powell to her destination."

"Don't bother, Commander," Stark said without a second's hesitation. "I can accompany her."

Cam sensed rather than saw Savard stiffen, and the fog cleared enough from her exhausted brain to register Blair's small sigh of disapproval, too.

"That's all right, Agent," Cam said, already pulling the cell phone from her belt. "Take what's rest of the night off. My orders."

After Cam arranged for the night detail to meet them with the second vehicle downstairs, they said goodnight to Stark and Savard and left.

"I can't believe you just volunteered to work another night. What is that‹three in a row?" Savard asked with a threatening tone in her voice. "Getting stood up two nights straight would seriously bruise my ego."

"Well, it's kind of a tricky situation since the Commander and Egret are trying not to be too obvious about spending time alone together," Stark began seriously. "It's easier if I --"

"Paula, shut up."

Then Savard effectively implemented the order by pressing her mouth to Stark's. Surprise turned to a soft moan as Savard's tongue moved gently over Stark's. When the kiss ended, Stark drew a shaky breath.

"That was awfully nice," she said, her breath catching a little on the words.

Savard rested her palm against Stark's cheek, gently brushing the dark hair back from her temple with her fingertips. "Yes, it was. And there's a lot more where that came from."

"There's no quota or anything is there?" Stark inquired as she intertwined her fingers with Savard's.

"None at all.² Savard¹s voice was husky and low. "In fact, I believe there's an endless supply."

"I want to make love with you so much," Stark confessed, her body vibrating with urgency. "I've wanted to for what feels like forever."

The simplicity of her statement struck Savard harder than a blow. Sharply, she drew in a breath, her blood suddenly racing. "I can't wait."

Stark stepped close and slipped one arm around her waist. Just before she kissed her, she whispered, "Then let's not."

Chapter Thirtyone

Cam leaned forward to relay instructions to Foster, who was at the wheel, then settled back in the rear of the Suburban with a sigh. Rubbing her temple absently, she said, "I ought to be able to run the first level background checks tonight."

"Cam," Blair said sharply, ³you¹re about ready to fall down. You need some sleep."

"I'm okay." Cam smiled and consciously straightened her shoulders, shaking her head to clear her mind. "I can nap between--"

"I want you to stay at Diane's with me tonight." Blair's voice was calm and quiet, but there was a finality in the way she spoke that suggested she was not going to yield.

Cam was silent, considering her choices. It wouldn't be the first time that she and Blair had spent hours, even entire nights, together at some place other than Blair's apartment. Their being alone didn't necessarily imply that they were involved personally--and at this point, it seemed moot what anyone thought about their relationship. In truth, she was too tired to make a good decision, and she wanted to be with Blair. "All right."

"Good." Cam's easy assent only confirmed Blair's suspicions that her lover was teetering on the brink of exhaustion. She had expected more of a fight, but she was happy to have avoided it. She too was emotionally and physically drained, and all she really wanted to do was see that Cam got some rest.

Fifteen minutes later, she and Cam stood outside Diane Bleecker's apartment door. When it opened, Diane lazily raised one eyebrow as she leaned against the doorjamb in a burgundy dressing down, looking like a siren from a 1940's movie. "Good evening."

"Hi," Blair said, taking Cam's hand as she leaned forward to kiss Diane on the cheek. "You have houseguests for the night."

"Goodie. I love a pajama party," Diane said as she stepped aside to allow them entrance, her sharp eyes taking in the Secret Service agent's pale complexion and slightly unsteady step.

"No," Blair threw back over her shoulder, leading Cam determinedly across the living room. "We're going directly to bed."

"Well, you're certainly no fun," Diane said with an exaggerated frown. Her tone was gentle, however, when she added, "Do you need anything?"

"No, we're all right. We just needed to escape for awhile."

Diane settled on the sofa as her friend and her lover disappeared around the corner in the direction of the guest room.

What you both need is a few weeks alone together--away from the news people and the White House both.

She sighed as she picked up a magazine, knowing her wish was unlikely to come true.

*****

"I should shower," Cam said as she eased out of her jacket and started to shrug the leather weapon harness off her shoulders.

"You're fine," Blair countered as she moved to her side and lifted the holster free, then placed it over a nearby chair. The guest room was large enough for a queen sized bed, a small dressing table with mirrors, several chairs and an adjoining bathroom. The single window was open and the curtains moved desultorily in the weak summer breeze. ³Just come to bed.²

Stubbornly, Cam shook her head. ³It¹s been a long day, and I don¹t want to lie naked next to you until I¹ve had a shower.²

³Well, I definitely want you naked,² Blair conceded. Reaching for Cam¹s hand once again, she turned toward the bathroom and said, ³Come on then, Commander.²

A few minutes later they stood together beneath the warm spray, almost too tired to talk. Cam leaned forward with both palms against the wall in front of her while the water hit her head and neck. She almost groaned  aloud as Blair began to soap her shoulders and back.

³God, that feels criminally good.²

³Turn around,² Blair said softly. When Cam complied, Blair smoothed her hands, soft with suds, over Cam¹s chest and abdomen.

³Starting to feel human?² Blair questioned softly, sensing Cam relaxing beneath her touch. At another time, the sight of Cam nude with her head thrown back, eyes closed, vulnerable in a way that she seemed with no one else, would have made Blair surge with desire. Tonight, being able to take care of her was satisfying in a way she had barely imagined. The responsibility of loving her was wonderful and terrifying at the same time. Suddenly, she slid her arms around Cam¹s waist and pressed against her, the white froth on Cam¹s body coating her own.

³What¹s this?² Cam murmured, feeling Blair tremble.

³Nothing. I just love you.²

Cam smiled and rested her cheek against Blair¹s. ³It feels good when you do.²

³Yes,² Blair whispered almost to herself.

Five minutes later they crawled between crisp clean sheets and embraced, face to face. Cam kissed the tip of Blair¹s nose and sighed.

³For the record, I want to make love,² Cam murmured.

³But?² Blair asked teasingly, settling her head on Cam¹s shoulder as she stroked her chest, finally gently cradling a breast in one palm.

³I¹m too damned tired.²

³Well,² Blair said as her lids began to close. ³There¹s always tomorrow.²

The last thing Cam did before she surrendered to sleep was to hope that would always be true.

*****

"Good morning," Diane said, surprise apparent in her tone as Cam walked into the kitchen a little after 7:00 the next morning. "I didn't expect to see you up so early. In fact, I expected you to sleep for a week."

"I smelled the coffee." Cam grinned, nodding toward the coffee maker on the counter.

"Ah," Diane said with a smile, lifting her own cup to her lips. She was in the burgundy dressing gown again, but this time she was obviously nude beneath it. The plunging neckline bared a nearly lethal expanse of creamy skin between her full breasts, and the curve of her hip and thigh was tantalizingly outlined in shimmering silk.

Cam averted her gaze and asked, "Do you mind if I take some to Blair?"

"Not at all. In fact, I'd prefer it."

Cam raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Diane smiled fondly. "She's beastly in the morning before coffee, or haven't you noticed?"

"I can't say as I have," Cam replied mildly as she moved to the counter and took down two cups from a glass-enclosed shelf above the sink.

"Very diplomatic, Commander," Diane said, her voice a low purr. "One could take that to mean that you've never seen her first thing in the morning, or that you've never found her to be cranky at that hour."

Cam turned, leaning her hip against the counter and regarded Diane solemnly. "I've seen her first thing in the morning, just not often."

"Something tells me that's going to change."

"I hope so."

Cam poured coffee, feeling Diane watching her. ³Thanks," she said when she'd finished. "For the coffee, and for putting us up last night."

"She's my best friend, and I love her."

"I know, and I'm glad.² Briefly Cam wondered if those two things were related or if they were, in fact, separate statements. She had never asked Blair if she and Diane had been lovers, and she never would. It didn't matter because it didn't affect what was between her and Blair now. ³She needs friends like you."

³Apparently what she needs most of all, Commander," Diane said emphatically, "is you."

"It's Cam. And if it makes you worry any less, I love her, too."

Diane smiled, and this time the smile was sensuous. Her voice dropped a register as she remarked throatily, "She's very fortunate."

"No. I am."

"Are things going to work out with this latest press brouhaha?" Diane asked suddenly.

Cam was used to keeping her reactions to herself, but the question surprised her. "You know about that?"

"Some. Blair told me about the photograph in the newspaper and the fact that she expects more publicity."

"I doubt that our relationship will remain a secret much longer."

"If I may be so bold... are you ready for that?"

"More than ready."

Diane saluted her with the coffee cup. "As I said, she's very lucky."

At that moment Blair shuffled into the kitchen, dressed only in a long T-shirt that came to mid thigh. She glanced from her lover to her best friend. "Who's lucky? Is that coffee?"

Cam laughed and held out the cup. "Here you go."

Blair frowned when she realized that Cam was barefoot in old clothes that Blair kept at Diane's for emergencies--tight threadbare jeans that didn't button at the top and a shirt that was missing buttons in decidedly dangerous places considering Diane's proximity. Crossing quickly to Cam's side, she took the cup and wrapped her free arm around her lover's waist. "What are you two talking about...or shouldn't I ask?"

Cam kissed her temple lightly and murmured, "Newspaper photographs."

Blair grimaced. "Oh, that. What else."

"Don't worry, love," Diane said lightly. "Once they've had their week of fun with you, they'll move on to something else. In six months, no one will care."

"In six months, my father is going to be in the middle of his reelection campaign. Someone is going to care."

"He can handle it," Cam said with certainty.

"I hope so," Blair said, almost to herself.

Chapter Thirtytwo

Five hours later, Cam, in a two piece charcoal suit and monochrome linen shirt, accompanied by Stark, Savard, Mac, and Felicia, knocked on Blair's door.

"Hi," Blair said when she stepped aside to admit them. For an instant, seeing Cam in her professional mode, she remembered how her lover had looked that morning, disheveled and still sleep-tossed, and she wanted to kiss her. Just because.

Hi," Cam murmured as she passed, the fingers of her right hand brushing the length of Blair's bare forearm.

"There's coffee in the kitchen if anyone wants some," Blair called. "Just help yourself.

A few minutes later, everyone had settled in a loose circle around the low wide coffee table in the sitting area just to the right of the door. Cam sat on the couch next to Blair with Mac on her left. Felicia was next to him in one of the sling back chairs while Stark and Savard occupied a small loveseat on the other side of the table.

"I ran preliminaries on our team this morning," Cam said. "As we all expected, it was fairly nonproductive. I did turn up one interesting fact, however."

Beside her, she felt Mac stiffen and saw Stark's eyes widen with surprise, or alarm. Savard watched her intently. The only person in the room who seemed completely relaxed was Felicia Davis.

"It seems that Fielding was assigned as the FBI liaison in DC three years ago. The Bureau field agent he worked with was Special Agent Patrick Doyle.

"Jesus," Stark exclaimed. "He never said anything about knowing Doyle."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean anything," Mac hastened to add. "It's not like they were old friends or anything. Considering what an asshole Doyle turned out to be, he probably wanted to downplay any relationship they might have had."

Reluctantly, Stark pointed out, ³Fielding was with us in San Francisco. And he¹d just gone off duty the night that Ms. Pow‹Blair and the commander were photographed on the beach. He could have tipped someone to their location.²

³Yes,² Mac agreed grudgingly, ³but there are plenty of other explanations for that photograph. The Bureau has agents there, and they¹d most likely take pictures of anyone with no questions asked if a DC SAC ordered them to.²

"At this point," Cam interjected before Mac and Stark ended up at odds, "I consider this only a coincidental association. It could be only a paper link--Fielding might never even have interfaced with Doyle in person. But it bears follow-up. Right now, we can't discount any potential connections." She had known her agents wouldn't like one of their own being looked at, and she didn't blame them. She would have been unhappy if they'd reacted otherwise. But it had to be done. "Savard? Can you run with it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. How about you two--any progress with my background check?" Cam asked, looking steadily at Stark and Savard.

Savard cleared her throat. "So far, Commander, you're in the clear. We looked at...ah...family members and the list of intimate contacts you provided."

To her credit, Savard neither blushed nor looked away. Then she added, "Other than your association with the escort service in DC, we don't see anything that could potentially be an avenue for blackmail or future coercion."

"For now, we'll accept that as a dead end," Cam responded evenly. "If something turns up that does lead back to me, we'll look further."

"Yes, ma'am."

Turning to her communications director, Cam asked, "Mac?"

He grimaced, his frustration evident. "I¹d hoped to have more. I finally backtracked the photograph in the Post of you and Blair through the AP's source files and came up with the name of a freelance reporter. Eric Mitchell out a Chicago."

"Name mean anything to anyone?" Cam asked of the room in general. Everyone shook their heads in the negative. She nodded. "Go ahead Mac."

He ran a hand through his blond hair and blew out of breath. "I wish I could. I talked to him an hour ago, and he's uncrackable. I don't think he'd give up a source if President Powell flew out there and confronted him in the news room. The only thing he would tell me is that it came to him via an anonymous email."

"I'm looking at that, Commander," Davis said quietly. ³Newspapers aren¹t particularly difficult to hack.²

Cam raised an eyebrow but made no comment. "You think there's any value in bracing him in person, Mac?"

Mac shook his head. "Believe me, Commander, I would fly out there this afternoon if I thought it would do any good. He's not going to give us anything."

"All right," Cam said with a sigh. "Anything in his background?"

"Nothing much, but I haven't looked too hard yet. I just came up with his name right before this meeting."

"Dig. There's got to be a reason that the source contacted him specifically. Find it."

"Roger that."

Finally, Cam looked to Felicia. "Any progress?"

Crossing one elegant calf over the other, Felicia Davis leaned forward, her hands loosely clasped in her lap. She was a stunning combination of composure and intensity. "I've just started, but I can tell you this--there is a concentrated exchange of e-mail and attached files going back and forth between a limited number of Bureau addresses and some offices on the Hill.²

³Specifics?² Cam asked, her eyes glinting. This is what we need.

³Not yet. Ordinarily, I wouldn't even find this kind of traffic unusual, but every single message is encrypted and the source files are limited. It will take me a while to pinpoint the origination, but eventually, I ought to be able to give you not only the who, but the what."

"Excellent. While you¹re at it," Cam instructed, "see if you can trace those same e-mail addresses or copies of the messages to anyone in Justice or Treasury."

"That means a lot of transmissions to sort out, Commander," Felicia pointed out. "It's the most common pathway for legitimate intra- and interagency business these days."

"I know that. What we need," Cam said in frustration, "is to find out who is coordinating this operation. That someone must have all the information. We need a name." She stood, and the others followed. "I'll be in Command Central all day. If anyone gets anything, advise me immediately. I need you all to remain available to meet here at any time in case something breaks."

Everyone murmured their assent as they gathered papers and moved toward the door. When Blair closed the door behind the small group of supporters, she turned to Cam and said, "What do you think?"

Cam leaned against the back of the sofa, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. "I think Davis is onto something. There has to be a tie-in to the Hill, because I can¹t see the Bureau in this all alone even if it does have Hoover-esque overtones." She rubbed both hands briskly over her face and sighed.

³What is it?²

³I¹ve had three calls from Carlisle since 8:00 a.m.²

Blair¹s chest tightened. ³What did he want?²

³I don¹t know,² Cam replied grimly. ³I haven¹t answered.²

³What do you think he wants?²

³To advise me of my suspension.²

She started toward the phone. ³I¹m calling Lucinda.²

³Blair, no,² Cam said softly. ³This isn¹t your fight.²

Blair stopped dead and stared stonily at Cam. ³I beg your pardon?²

³This is internal‹something between Carlisle and me and whoever might be squeezing him on this.² Cam held out her hands. ³Come here.²

After a second¹s hesitation, Blair crossed the room and stepped into the space between Cam's legs, loosely wrapping her arms around her lover's shoulders, one hand going to the back of Cam¹s neck. She stroked her gently. ³Don¹t shut me out.²

³I won¹t,² Cam promised, encircling her waist. ³But let¹s wait to pull out the big guns.²

Blair laughed. ³Lucinda would love to know you called her that.²

³Speaking of the formidable Chief of Staff,² Cam said, "what have you decided about making a statement to the press‹about us?"

"I believe I¹m at the point that if asked, I will acknowledge."

"Good," Cam murmured as she kissed Blair's forehead. "I think that's a very good idea."

Blair studied Cam's eyes, looking for any sign of worry. "Are you sure you're okay with that if I do? You're going to get most of the heat initially. Someone is bound to raise the issue that you took advantage of your position or that your effectiveness has been compromised."

Cam brushed her thumb against the corner of Blair's mouth, smiling when Blair quickly turned her head and kissed it. "I'm fine with it. I love you."

The words never failed to pierce her to the core, and, smiling, Blair pressed closer, her lips finding Cam¹s neck before she rested her cheek on Cam's shoulder. ³Well, I can testify to the fact that your effectiveness has not been diminished in the least.²

³Good to know,² Cam murmured.

Closing her eyes, Blair breathed her lover¹s scent and felt her heartbeat strong beneath her palm. Feeling inexplicably at peace, she whispered, "I love you, too, Commander."

*****

As the afternoon dragged by, Blair tried to occupy her mind with work. Usually, once she began applying paint to canvas, her focus was so intense that everything else would disappear from her consciousness. Unfortunately, it wasn¹t working this time. Frustrated, she set her palette and brushes aside and pushed both hands through her hair, glancing at the clock for the fifth time in as many minutes.

As she crossed the loft with the intent of calling the command center to ask Cam for an update, a knock sounded on her door. She detoured in that direction and sighed with relief when she saw her lover¹s face through the peephole.

³God, I¹ve been going crazy up here,² she said as soon as she had the door open. She grasped Cam¹s hand and pulled her inside, then kissed her swiftly on the mouth. ³Tell me you¹ve got something.²

Cam shook her head, shedding her jacket to the back of a nearby chair and shrugging out of her shoulder holster. ³Not yet, but Davis is hopeful that it won¹t be too long. I¹ve got to believe we¹ll turn up something soon.²

We have to, because the clock is ticking faster than I thought.

³Maybe this really will be over soon,² Blair said wearily. ³At least we haven¹t gotten any more envelopes with surveillance photographs of us inside.²

³No, and I don¹t think we will either,² Cam said, moving to the sofa and leaning back with a sigh as she relaxed into the cushions. She¹d been hunched over a computer in the command center for hours.

³Why not?² Blair asked as she joined her.

³Because I think our theory that these came from a friendly source is correct,² Cam said as she took Blair¹s hand, intertwining their fingers and resting them on her thigh. ³I think they were meant to warn us‹or at least you--of the scope of the investigation and perhaps to give a hint of the intent. The first photograph was of you and I together, letting you know that our relationship wasn¹t a secret. But it wasn¹t as damaging as it might have been, because it wasn¹t clear that you were with a woman, and I wasn¹t identifiable. Plus, there¹s been no follow-up to that. A reporter wouldn¹t be likely to sit on that kind of juicy tidbit for long.²

³I agree,² Blair mused. ³In fact this reporter in Chicago, Eric Mitchell, is probably dying for a follow-up. Obviously he hasn¹t gotten anything further or he would have run with it.²

³Exactly.² Cam rubbed her thumb over the top of Blair's hand as she spoke. ³Then we have a photograph of me in a bar with a woman in a compromising position. As a result, we know that there¹s an active covert investigation of me. And it points to the kind of surveillance that only professionals can carry out‹a link to the Bureau or Justice.²

³And finally,² Blair said emphatically, ³there¹s a picture of the woman you¹d been having a clandestine affair with.²

³Hardly an affair,² Cam objected hastily.

Blair raised an eyebrow. ³Cameron, let¹s not split hairs.²

³Point taken.²

³Regardless of what you call it,² Blair continued unperturbed, ³the third photograph warned us that the escort service was under investigation, suggesting that the operation extended to personal lives‹possibly not just yours, but other influential people as well.²

³Including the president,² Cam added. ³I¹d say that someone managed to draw us a pretty clear picture of what was going on without actually naming names‹or risking exposure themselves.²

³I suppose,² Blair said softly, ³they might have thought it would scare me enough to stop seeing you.²

³Thereby giving you credible distance and keeping you clear of any scandal.² Cam¹s stomach tightened. ³Everything points to a DC insider.²

³Right‹Deep Throat,² Blair said with a sigh. ³I suppose it would seem like a favor to anyone who doesn¹t know how serious I am about you already.²

³Does anyone know?²

Blair shook her head. ³Only Diane. And your mother.²

Cam stared at her for a second, then grinned for the first time in what felt like days. ³I think we can rule them out. What about your friends‹your contacts? You seem to have a pretty well-positioned circle of insiders at that White House and other handy places.²

³Believe me, I¹ve thought of that. I can think of one or two who might stumble onto something like this, but I can¹t imagine why they wouldn¹t just pick up the phone and call me.²

Cam sighed. ³I agree‹that makes no sense.²

Blair drew her legs up under her and curled up against Cam¹s side, threading her free arm around her waist. ³Well, I¹m grateful to whoever did it, but there¹s nothing that could keep me away from you.²

Yes, there is.

When Cam didn¹t reply, Blair sat up and regarded her with concern. ³Cam? What is it?²

³As of 0900 tomorrow morning, I¹ll no longer be your security chief. Mac will be interi¯²

³No,² Blair cried, getting hastily to her feet, her eyes slightly wild. ³No. That¹s not how this is going to go. No.²

Startled, Cam stood, reaching for her hands. ³Blair ¯²

³Don¹t,² Blair said sharply, stepping back, avoiding Cam¹s touch. ³I know what will happen. They¹ll replace you, and I¹ll never see you again.²

³No, that¹s not true,² Cam exclaimed, stepping slowly toward her lover.

Blair looked like she was ready to bolt. Cam couldn¹t remember ever seeing her so frantic, even when Loverboy had been stalking her. This wasn¹t just about them; this was something else, an old terror of loss and abandonment come back to haunt her. Heart aching, Cam said again softly, ³I won¹t disappear. I promised I wouldn¹t.²

Blair¹s eyes stung, and a cold hard fear blossomed in her chest. ³What if you can¹t help it.²

³I can help it,² Cam said with certainty. ³Even if I¹m not on your detail, I¹ll still see you. No one¹s going to stop me‹stop us.²

³What if‹² Blair blinked as Cam¹s arms came around her, and she shuddered as she let herself be held. Cam was warm, her body solid, her hands tender. The past slipped away and the world righted itself. She took a deep breath. ³Sorry. I panicked. I‹²

³It¹s okay.² Cam kissed her, and briefly, they found strength in the certainty of their love.

When Blair eased out of the embrace, her eyes were hot, but this time with fury.  ³God damn it, Cameron--I¹m not letting this happen to you; I¹m not letting someone tear us apart; I¹m not letting Capitol Hill run my life any longer.² She started across the loft toward her sleeping alcove.

³What are you doing?²

³I¹m going to Washington.²

³We don¹t know enough ¯²

³Then I¹ll find out,² Blair seethed.

Cam swore as her cell phone rang. Snatching it off her belt, she snapped, ³Roberts.²

Her face grew still, her eyes fiercely intent as she listened. ³Come upstairs, and bring what you have.²

As she closed the phone, she met Blair¹s questioning gaze. ³Stark says they have something.²

Chapter Thirtythree

"Okay, let's hear it," Cam said, looking from Stark to Savard. Both of them were unusually subdued, and she had a distinct sensation that Stark was trying not fidget. "Agent Stark?"

"We've been running everyone we could think of who had any connection to you, Commander, past or present, testing the theory that the exposure of your involvement with the...escort service might be a payback of some kind." Stark took a breath, seemed to be gathering herself. "You know, a grudge kind of thing--someone passed over for promotion, someone who resents a woman heading the security team, someone who might be jealous of--"

"I think we all follow your reasoning, Stark," Cam said dryly.

"Right. Well, naturally, we dug deeper on a few people and--"

"Spit it out," Cam said brusquely. Her nerves were starting to fray, and she was working hard not to show it. Despite what she'd told Blair earlier, she knew that once a formal investigation was launched into her actions in the Loverboy operation, she wouldn't be able to see Blair. At least not until she was cleared--if she was cleared. The thought of being separated from Blair made her ache and knowing that Blair would feel deserted tore at her. "We don't have time for the long version."

She was surprised to feel Blair's hand move over to rest lightly on her knee. Drawing a breath, settling herself, she said, "Sorry. Continue."

Stark sat up straighter and reported smartly, "It came to our attention that Detective Sergeant Janet Aronson was married at one time."

"Yes, I know that," Cam agreed, her eyes never leaving Stark's. "It was well before I knew her, and she'd been divorced a number of years by the time she and I were involved. It wasn't something we spent any time talking about."

"Yes, ma'am, I understand. She was married to--"

"Another cop. I know all this," Cam said impatiently, but she was beginning to feel a tightening in her chest--a foreboding, as if there was something she should know, but didn't. Something she had missed. God, there were so many things she had done wrong with Janet.

Blair's fingers tightened briefly on Cam¹s leg and then stroked softly in a small circle. The touch brought her back to the present, and she slid her own fingers fleetingly over her lover's. "I'm sorry. I...just go ahead."

"She wasn't married to another cop, Commander, she was married to a federal agent. Patrick Doyle."

"Jesus." Cam stood abruptly and walked to the far side of the room. Her back to the group, she looked out over Gramercy Park, remembering Janet's face, and the look in her eyes the day she'd died. Without turning, she said, her voice rough with memory, "Maybe she said law enforcement and I just assumed it was another cop. I never asked... t didn't seem important, but..."

Nothing personal seemed important between us. We shared a bed and not much more. God, she deserved better.

From across the room, Blair watched Cam's back stiffen and her hands clench at her sides. She wanted to go to her, to put her arms around her and rest her cheek against her back. To hold her until the memories faded and the pain diminished. She couldn't, not because the people in the room were not her friends, but because this was the pain that Cam guarded and was not ready to share. Eventually, Blair hoped she would, and when she did--Blair would find a way to help her forgive herself.

After a minute, Cam returned to her seat. Her face was expressionless, her voice steady, when she said, "Well, if Doyle had been keeping any kind of track of her, he might have known about us. It's hard to keep anything secret in a cop shop. I'm sure he has friends with the DC police."

"That would certainly explain why he's always had it in for you," Mac noted.

"He wouldn't be alone," she said quietly. ³A lot of people thought I should have been able to prevent what happened to her.²

"It explains why if he came across something incidental about you in an investigative file, he might try to use it against you," Savard pointed out, her tone calm and matter-of-fact. She'd seen the pain flicker through Cameron Roberts' eyes, and she'd almost felt Blair Powell's desperate desire to comfort her. She felt for both women, imaging how it would feel to have her own deepest secrets laid bare like this.

"Yes," Cam sighed, reaching for Blair's hand without realizing it. "I suppose it explains the photograph of me and the redhead in the bar--and possibly the one of Blair and me as well. If he's trying to sabotage my career, he's made a good start.²

Mac swore and Cam gave him a quick smile. ³It doesn't explain the photograph of Blair and ClŠmy previous companion, however."

"It does if he was going to hold it over your head," Stark asserted indignantly. "If he threatened to implicate Blair in something illegal or even just...unsavory, he'd have a pretty good screw in you."

"I suppose you¹re right." Cam rubbed her face with her free hand, the other lightly linked with Blair¹s on the sofa between them. ³Anything else?²

Stark and Savard shook their heads.

³Felicia¹s still working‹she says she¹s getting closer,² Mac offered desperately. When Cam had told him about the call from Carlisle and her imminent suspension, he¹d wanted to punch something. ³I¹ve got some stuff on the reporter. Nothing much there, though.²

³Can you guys give us a while, and then we¹ll regroup and see where we are?² Blair asked quietly. ³I¹ll call you when we¹re ready.²

³It¹s okay,² Cam murmured as her agents hastened to leave.

³No, it¹s not,² Blair answered just as softly. ³But it will be.²

*****

When the door closed behind the team members, Cam, still seated on the couch, dropped her head into her hands, her elbows braced on her knees.

"Ah, fuck," she said wearily. "Christ, I'm sorry."

Blair went to her side, sat close, and rested her left hand lightly on the small of Cam's back. The shirt was soaked with sweat even though the loft was cool. The anguish in Cam's voice was so rare, and so raw, she felt the edges of her own soul bleed.

"Cam," she said quietly, her fingers making small light circles over the tense muscles. "What are you sorry for?"

Without lifting her head, without turning toward her lover's soothing voice, Cam replied dully, "I'm sorry my past is causing trouble for you now. I had no idea... I can't believe Doyle and Janet... Jesus Christ."

"It's not your fault that Doyle is doing this, Cam," Blair said reasonably.

"If I'd been there for her, she might be alive," Cam said sharply, finally straightening, her anger whipping through her frame, making her tremble. "If I'd asked her about her assignment, cared about what she was doing...if I'd done more than drop around when I needed...oh fuck, you don't need to hear this."

Cam got abruptly to her feet, desperately trying to regain control. She was tired, and the goddamn headache was back, and she was having trouble pushing the memories back where they belonged, behind the door that she kept locked and barricaded.

Blair reached for her lover's hand and said firmly, "Sit back down, Cameron."

For a second, Cam resisted, and then almost against her will, she did. Turning, she met Blair's eyes, her own clouded with regret. "I've made so many mistakes. With Janet, with you. It's bad enough that I got involved with you while I was on the detail. I never thought anyone would find out about the escort service, and before, when it was just me at risk, I didn't care. Now, I've pulled you into this and I'm sorry."

Blair¹s gaze never wavered. "I know you're tired, because I am, too. I have a feeling your concussion was a lot worse than we thought, because I can tell the pain is back now. I know you¹re worried about me. I know what it will mean to you if there's an inquiry and your competence is questioned. I know all those things, Cam." Blair paused a beat and then said in a strong, resolute voice, "But if you ever apologize to me again for loving me, I'm going to tell you to leave...and not come back."

Cam's eyes widened and she jerked, feeling the invisible blow as surely as a fist. After a full minute she breathed, "Blair," and lifted her fingers to stroke the rigid line of Blair's tense jaw. "I'm not sorry for loving you. Loving you is the best thing I¹ve ever done in my life. I'm only sorry that my loving you has brought you pain."

"It hasn't--not once," Blair said softly, lifting her hand and closing her fingers over Cam's. "You're not to blame for Janet's death, and you're not at fault for being unable to prevent it. You're not always responsible, Cam, for what happens to other people. I know that's what makes you who you are, and I love you for it. But sometimes you have to let it go. If you don¹t, it's going to destroy you...or us."

³Ah, god." Cam's intake of breath was sharp. "I'd do anything not to lose you."

"Well, good." Blair drew her first full breath in many minutes, then smiled a bit tremulously. "Because I need you so very much."

Leaning forward, Cam kissed her mouth, gently at first and then with increasing urgency, a kiss heavy with possession and need. Blair's hands came to Cam's chest, then moved upward inside the collar of her shirt, to the back of her neck, insinuating her fingers  into the thick dark hair, pulling her head closer, hungry for her. Minutes later when they pulled away from each other, both of them gasping, Blair moaned, "God, you make me ache inside."

The feel of her, the want in her voice, the urgency in her words made Cam's head swim. All she could see was her; all she could think of was the heat of her flesh and the sound of her cries and the beating of her heart beneath her own fingers and tongue. "I want you now. Right now."

"I knowŠI can feel it. I can see it your eyes. I love the way you want me."

When Cam lifted shaking hands to Blair's shirt, Blair stopped her, resting her fingers around Cam's wrists. "We've got a lot to do before tomorrow morning," she managed through a throat thick with need.

"I'll be able to think better if all my blood isn't pooling between my legs," Cam insisted, sliding her palms under the material over the bare breasts beneath. Blair's sigh of pleasure was all the permission she needed to continue. Shifting, she pressed Blair back against the pillows on the sofa and fitted herself between Blair's legs. They were both still dressed, but Cam had bared Blair's breasts and abdomen. Rocking her hips into space between her lover¹s thighs, Cam braced herself on her extended arms and lowered her head to work her lips and tongue over Blair's nipples and the sides of her breast and down the center of her belly. By the time she reached her navel and tugged at the small gold ring with her teeth, Blair was moaning, her head rocking from side to side. Sitting back on her knees, Cam freed the buttons on Blair's jeans and worked the zipper down, switching her hands to the waistband as Blair lifted her hips to help push them off.

Once the jeans were below Blair's knees, Cam ran her fingers up the inside of Blair's legs, teasing them apart, making room for her mouth.

Blair was ready, the way Cam knew she would be. Already swollen, pulsating, heavy and dark with urgency and blood, Cam inhaled her arousal and felt the answering beat between her own thighs.

"Ah, god...when I touch you, I can feel it inside like you're touching me back. I could come from making you come."

"Try," Blair whispered hoarsely.

Cam laughed and lowered her head. She didn't rush; she didn't tease; she took her steadily and certainly and unerringly. She knew when to tug and when to suck and when to slowly work her tongue around the pounding, quivering nerve center, following the rise of Blair's hips, riding the crescendo of her cries.

Together, their blood soared and when their passion surged, it flowed as one, anointing them both.

Chapter Thirty-four

Cam turned on her side, her cheek resting on Blair's lower abdomen. Sighing, she murmured drowsily, "Why is that I can't remember what I was so worried about ten minutes ago?"

Blair threaded her fingers through Cam's hair and drew the damp strands over her palm. "Sex does that. It melts your synapses, at least it does when we do it."

"Well, I¹d better get my brain reconnected." Cam pushed herself upright, her hand trailing lightly up and down Blair's bare thigh. "I need to review the Paris itinerary with Mac tonight and be sure everything is in place since I won't be go--"

"If you don't go, I don't go," Blair said with absolute finality.

Cam turned your head and studied her lover, who still reclined among the displaced cushions, her clothes disheveled, her color still high with their lingering passion. She was beautiful and strong and everything that mattered in Cam's life.

"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, ³Yes... 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."

³Specifics?² Cam probed.

"Unfortunately, no,² Felicia replied. ³I 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. "They¹ve 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. "There¹s been a low level hum for months that he¹ll 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."