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, "All 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 couldn't 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, "Yes. 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 Cam's 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, "Stark's 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 loft's 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. "Both times?"

"Apparently." 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 you're 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."

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

Blair smiled enigmatically.

"Ah ha," Cam said, arching an eyebrow. "Recently?"

There was just a touch of heat in her voice.

Blair laughed. "Not what you're 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. She's 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."

"And you trust her?"

"Absolutely."

"Enough to tell her about this?"

Blair hesitated as she dished out pasta and sautœed vegetables. "Yesterday morning I would have said yes. Last night she sounded...odd. Like she wanted to say something, but didn't."

"Or couldn't," Cam countered.

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

"What do you mean?"

 "Did you talk to her at work?"

"Yes. But I was circumspect. I didn't use your name."

"Still," Cam said around bites, "she has to know everything going in and out of there is taped. And besides, maybe she's more loyal to the Bureau than to you, especially if she thinks I'm dirty. Remember, she doesn't know me at all."

"I hadn't considered that," 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 Cam's thigh, stroking her softly. "Do you think I should try talking to her?"

"Not yet. Maybe we'll know more after we see what's in the newest delivery," Cam mused, covering Blair's 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. I'd 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." 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. "But 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 Cam's 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 Cam's 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.

"Commander," she said when she saw Cam, her eyes moving over Stark's face with a faint smile, then stopping in surprise when they met Blair's. "Good evening, Ms. Powell."

"Hi," Blair replied. "How are you feeling, Renee?"

"Okay. I'll be better when I can get out of this damn thing," Savard said, indicating the sling tethering her left arm to her chest. "Come inside. The security cameras are timed back here. We've got a few minutes."

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 lab's 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." Savard pointed to the manila envelope in Cam's hand. "I 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. I'll 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. We're friends, and he's loyal."

"What about the content? It could be-sensitive," Cam pointed out.

"He doesn't care what's in there; he only cares what's on it. Fingerprints, fiber, bodily fluids. That's 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 don't 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," Cam theorized. "Maybe 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.

"You have a point," 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; it's 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. "Thanks, Sammy."

"No problem," he said, blushing as he shook her hand. "Anytime."

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. "Before we wear out our welcome."

Cautiously, Savard offered, "I've got my sister's apartment to myself. She's working tonight. We could do it there...unless you're headed back to command central?"

"No," Cam said. "I'd 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 sister's? He's 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," 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."

"That's 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 won't 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, I'll settle for the numbers you used to contact her, and how you identified yourself."

"Done." Cam hesitated. "There's one other thing that needs to be done. We need to run background checks on everyone in Ms. Powell's 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 it's 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 we'll 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, I'm 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." Savard's 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, "you're 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. "Just come to bed."

Stubbornly, Cam shook her head. "It's been a long day, and I don't want to lie naked next to you until I've had a shower."

"Well, I definitely want you naked," Blair conceded. Reaching for Cam's hand once again, she turned toward the bathroom and said, "Come on then, Commander."

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.

"God, that feels criminally good."

"Turn around," Blair said softly. When Cam complied, Blair smoothed her hands, soft with suds, over Cam's chest and abdomen.

"Starting to feel human?" 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 Cam's waist and pressed against her, the white froth on Cam's body coating her own.

"What's this?" Cam murmured, feeling Blair tremble.

"Nothing. I just love you."

Cam smiled and rested her cheek against Blair's. "It feels good when you do."

"Yes," Blair whispered almost to herself.

Five minutes later they crawled between crisp clean sheets and embraced, face to face. Cam kissed the tip of Blair's nose and sighed.

"For the record, I want to make love," Cam murmured.

"But?" Blair asked teasingly, settling her head on Cam's shoulder as she stroked her chest, finally gently cradling a breast in one palm.

"I'm too damned tired."

"Well," Blair said as her lids began to close. "There's always tomorrow."

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. "Thanks," 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." 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. "She needs friends like you."

"Apparently 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, "Fielding was with us in San Francisco. And he'd 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."

"Yes," Mac agreed grudgingly, "but there are plenty of other explanations for that photograph. The Bureau has agents there, and they'd most likely take pictures of anyone with no questions asked if a DC SAC ordered them to."

"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. "I'd 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. "Newspapers aren't particularly difficult to hack."

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."

"Specifics?" Cam asked, her eyes glinting. This is what we need.

"Not 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 you're 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 can't 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.

"What is it?"

"I've had three calls from Carlisle since 8:00 a.m."

Blair's chest tightened. "What did he want?"

"I don't know," Cam replied grimly. "I haven't answered."

"What do you think he wants?"

"To advise me of my suspension."

She started toward the phone. "I'm calling Lucinda."

"Blair, no," Cam said softly. "This isn't your fight."

Blair stopped dead and stared stonily at Cam. "I beg your pardon?"

"This is internal-something between Carlisle and me and whoever might be squeezing him on this." Cam held out her hands. "Come here."

After a second's 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 Cam's neck. She stroked her gently. "Don't shut me out."

"I won't," Cam promised, encircling her waist. "But let's wait to pull out the big guns."

Blair laughed. "Lucinda would love to know you called her that."

"Speaking of the formidable Chief of Staff," Cam said, "what have you decided about making a statement to the press-about us?"

"I believe I'm 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 Cam's neck before she rested her cheek on Cam's shoulder. "Well, I can testify to the fact that your effectiveness has not been diminished in the least."

"Good to know," Cam murmured.

Closing her eyes, Blair breathed her lover's 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 wasn't 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 lover's face through the peephole.

"God, I've been going crazy up here," she said as soon as she had the door open. She grasped Cam's hand and pulled her inside, then kissed her swiftly on the mouth. "Tell me you've got something."

Cam shook her head, shedding her jacket to the back of a nearby chair and shrugging out of her shoulder holster. "Not yet, but Davis is hopeful that it won't be too long. I've got to believe we'll turn up something soon."

We have to, because the clock is ticking faster than I thought.

"Maybe this really will be over soon," Blair said wearily. "At least we haven't gotten any more envelopes with surveillance photographs of us inside."

"No, and I don't think we will either," Cam said, moving to the sofa and leaning back with a sigh as she relaxed into the cushions. She'd been hunched over a computer in the command center for hours.

"Why not?" Blair asked as she joined her.

"Because I think our theory that these came from a friendly source is correct," Cam said as she took Blair's hand, intertwining their fingers and resting them on her thigh. "I 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 wasn't a secret. But it wasn't as damaging as it might have been, because it wasn't clear that you were with a woman, and I wasn't identifiable. Plus, there's been no follow-up to that. A reporter wouldn't be likely to sit on that kind of juicy tidbit for long."

"I agree," Blair mused. "In fact this reporter in Chicago, Eric Mitchell, is probably dying for a follow-up. Obviously he hasn't gotten anything further or he would have run with it."

"Exactly." Cam rubbed her thumb over the top of Blair's hand as she spoke. "Then we have a photograph of me in a bar with a woman in a compromising position. As a result, we know that there's 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."

"And finally," Blair said emphatically, "there's a picture of the woman you'd been having a clandestine affair with."

"Hardly an affair," Cam objected hastily.

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Cameron, let's not split hairs."

"Point taken."

"Regardless of what you call it," Blair continued unperturbed, "the 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."

"Including the president," Cam added. "I'd say that someone managed to draw us a pretty clear picture of what was going on without actually naming names-or risking exposure themselves."

"I suppose," Blair said softly, "they might have thought it would scare me enough to stop seeing you."

"Thereby giving you credible distance and keeping you clear of any scandal." Cam's stomach tightened. "Everything points to a DC insider."

"Right-Deep Throat," Blair said with a sigh. "I suppose it would seem like a favor to anyone who doesn't know how serious I am about you already."

"Does anyone know?"

Blair shook her head. "Only Diane. And your mother."

Cam stared at her for a second, then grinned for the first time in what felt like days. "I 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."

"Believe me, I've thought of that. I can think of one or two who might stumble onto something like this, but I can't imagine why they wouldn't just pick up the phone and call me."

Cam sighed. "I agree-that makes no sense."

Blair drew her legs up under her and curled up against Cam's side, threading her free arm around her waist. "Well, I'm grateful to whoever did it, but there's nothing that could keep me away from you."

Yes, there is.

When Cam didn't reply, Blair sat up and regarded her with concern. "Cam? What is it?"

"As of 0900 tomorrow morning, I'll no longer be your security chief. Mac will be interi¿"

"No," Blair cried, getting hastily to her feet, her eyes slightly wild. "No. That's not how this is going to go. No."

Startled, Cam stood, reaching for her hands. "Blair ¿"

"Don't," Blair said sharply, stepping back, avoiding Cam's touch. "I know what will happen. They'll replace you, and I'll never see you again."

"No, that's not true," Cam exclaimed, stepping slowly toward her lover.

Blair looked like she was ready to bolt. Cam couldn't remember ever seeing her so frantic, even when Loverboy had been stalking her. This wasn't 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, "I won't disappear. I promised I wouldn't."

Blair's eyes stung, and a cold hard fear blossomed in her chest. "What if you can't help it."

"I can help it," Cam said with certainty. "Even if I'm not on your detail, I'll still see you. No one's going to stop me-stop us."

"What if-" Blair blinked as Cam's 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. "Sorry. I panicked. I-"

"It's okay." 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.  "God damn it, Cameron--I'm not letting this happen to you; I'm not letting someone tear us apart; I'm not letting Capitol Hill run my life any longer." She started across the loft toward her sleeping alcove.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to Washington."

"We don't know enough ¿"

"Then I'll find out," Blair seethed.

Cam swore as her cell phone rang. Snatching it off her belt, she snapped, "Roberts."

Her face grew still, her eyes fiercely intent as she listened. "Come upstairs, and bring what you have."

As she closed the phone, she met Blair's questioning gaze. "Stark says they have something."

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 Cam's 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. "A lot of people thought I should have been able to prevent what happened to her."

"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."

Mac swore and Cam gave him a quick smile. "It doesn't explain the photograph of Blair and Cl...my 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 you're right." Cam rubbed her face with her free hand, the other lightly linked with Blair's on the sofa between them. "Anything else?"

Stark and Savard shook their heads.

"Felicia's still working-she says she's getting closer," Mac offered desperately. When Cam had told him about the call from Carlisle and her imminent suspension, he'd wanted to punch something. "I've got some stuff on the reporter. Nothing much there, though."

"Can you guys give us a while, and then we'll regroup and see where we are?" Blair asked quietly. "I'll call you when we're ready."

"It's okay," Cam murmured as her agents hastened to leave.

"No, it's not," Blair answered just as softly. "But it will be."

*****

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."

Blair's 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 you're 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 I've 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 don't, it's going to destroy you...or us."

"Ah, 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 know...I 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 lover's 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, I'd 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, "Yes... no, it's fine...come up now."

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

*****

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

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

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

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

"Which committees?" Blair asked sharply.

"Intelligence and Arms."

"Specifics?" Cam probed.

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

"How long?" Cam inquired, her face grim.

"I don't know. I could get lucky and hit right away, or it could take... days."

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

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

"Commander," he protested.

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

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

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

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

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

"What about his wife?" Cam asked. "Anything there?"

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

"Patty Carpenter? College at Amherst?"

Mac's head snapped up. "That's right."

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

"What is it?"

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

"But?" Cam asked gently, sensing Blair's struggle.

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

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

"It's a friend, isn't it?"

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

"Blair, we can find a way through this. I don't want you to betray--"

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

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

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

Mac's eyebrows flew up, and even Felicia's normally calm countenance registered surprise. "Senator Wallace?"

"Yes," Blair said.

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

"Senator Wallace," Mac repeated. "There's been a low level hum for months that he'll challenge your father for the nomination. Jesus Christ, this is going to get ugly."

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

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

"Good. I'll be here when you have something."

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

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

"Ah--and how did you make the connection?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I might have some ideas," Blair said.

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

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

Chapter Thirtyfive

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

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

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

Blair stirred and whispered, "What's wrong?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes. Just a nightmare--the kind you have when you're awake."

"I've had them," Blair said quietly. "You make them stop."

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

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

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

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

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

"You bet you will."

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

"Blair Powell...give us 10 minutes."

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

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

*****

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

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

"Jesus," Lucinda muttered. "That's a security nightmare."

"No, it isn't," Blair assured her. "No one is going to say anything to anyone."

"You trust them all?"

Blair laughed at the irony, thinking of all they'd been through together. "With my life."

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

"Pretty much." Blair shrugged. "I don't really know what his intentions were, but the transmissions we intercepted clearly indicate unofficial surveillance being carried out by some members of the FBI, with that information being routed to Senator Wallace and at least one person at Justice."

"And who tipped you to this?"

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

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

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

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

"We don't know that anyone has actually been blackmailed. Coerced might be a better word."

"That's a fine distinction," Lucinda pointed out.

"I know--but if we...uh, you...put an end to this now, it won't ever reach that point."

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

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

"I don't have any desire to air Washington's soiled linens on prime time TV," Blair said sharply.

"But you brought this to me for a reason." She held up a hand when Blair started to explain. "Oh, I know--you're concerned about your father's political future. I believe you. So am I. What else do you want?"

"I want the Justice investigation into my security chief called off. It never should have gotten as far as it has, but someone is pushing buttons in Treasury or Justice-or both, and I know at least one of those people is involved in this undercover operation."

Lucinda's eyes flicked to the stack of documents. "Your chief's name is on the escort list."

Blair never blinked. "I know that. It has nothing to do with her job performance, and it has nothing to do with our relationship. The Justice inquest was instigated by someone with a personal ax to grind with her. I want it to stop."

Leaning back in her chair, Lucinda gazed at some point across the room, clearly mentally sorting options. "You know," she said contemplatively, "most people believe that the currency of government is the almighty dollar, but it isn't. It's favors. I hold IOUs on a lot of people. I don't mind using some of them to clear this up, because it's going to save me a lot of trouble down the road to shut this down right now."

The anxiety that had churned in Blair's stomach since she had called Lucinda from the plane on the way to DC to ask for an emergency early morning briefing began to abate. "It will have to be soon in order to help Cam."

"Oh, it will be," Lucinda said. "But I'll expect something in return."

Blair's eyes narrowed. "And what would that be?"

"That you keep a lid on your relationship with Agent Roberts--at least until after the nominations. No statements, no public acknowledgements, and no more public displays of affection."

Blair should her head. "No. You said it yourself--if I hadn't brought this information to you, you might have found yourself in a very difficult nomination race against Wallace next year. I'd say we're even."

"You should consider politics."

"Not in this lifetime. I'll tell you what, though," Blair conceded. "I promise if I make any public statement about my personal life I'll give you fair warning so Aaron will be prepared to handle the press corps."

"It sounds like you're already planning something. I'd like the details now."

"Actually, that's something I'd rather discuss with my father."

Blair rose and walked toward the door. As she reached for the handle, she turned back and said, "Thanks for the help."

"Don't mention it," Lucinda called dryly as the door slowly closed behind the president's daughter.

*****

When Cam opened the door, Blair's heart lurched with worry. Her lover was still in the same jeans and polo shirt that she'd worn on the plane.

"I thought you had an appointment at Justice?" Blair said as she entered, her fingers curling around Cam's bare forearm. "Why aren't you dressed? It's almost nine."

"It seems I don't have anywhere to be this morning after all," Cam replied.

"Cam, if they've suspended you alre--"

Cam grinned and shook her head. "Quite the opposite. Carlisle's secretary called me at 8:03 to advise me that the scheduled meeting with him had been canceled--and that he also had instructed her to inform me that the matter of Loverboy was closed."

Blair slipped her arms around Cam's waist and sighed with relief. "Thank God."

"What exactly did you do?" Cam inquired in astonishment.

"Not much," Blair replied. "Lucinda and I traded favors."

"Thank you for that--for everything."

"It feels good to be able to do something for you," Blair murmured, running her hand across Cam's chest, seeing the scars again in her mind's eye. Every time they made love, she saw them--felt them with her fingers and her lips. Remembered the moment the bullet struck. She shook her head, letting the memory go, savoring her lover's solid embrace. "You don't need to thank me."

"I still do, though," Cam whispered as she kissed her.

"Yes, well," Blair managed when she caught her breath, "Lucinda will be sure to remind me when she needs something done on short notice, I'm sure."

"She's a very fast worker," Cam noted admiringly. "Whatever strings she pulled, it didn't take long."

"Lucinda Washburn probably has more power than anyone in this country, next to my father. If she wants something done, it gets done."

"You have some very interesting contacts," Cam observed, her grin widening. "You're a very good woman to know."

"You think so, Commander?" Blair said as she ran her hands lightly up and down Cam's back. "Impressed?"

Cam nuzzled Blair's neck, kissing the tender skin beneath her earlobe which Cam knew was a trigger point for her sensitive lover. "Uh huh. Very impressed."

With her lips very close to Cam's ear, Blair whispered throatily, "Then you'll probably be especially excited to know that we have an appointment with the President of the United States in an hour."

Cam stiffened, then straightened suddenly. "Excuse me?"

"He's got a busy day, so we've been sandwiched in between the morning briefing with the national security agency and a meeting with a representative from the People's Republic of China."

"Christ, I've got to change my clothes!"

"You look fine. It's a family visit, Cam, not a briefing."

"That may be," Cam replied, turning toward the bedroom. "But I'm not going to pay a visit to the president in blue jeans."

"You're going to have to get over that eventually. I expect you'll be seeing quite a lot of him in the future. You know-birthdays, holidays-that sort of thing."

"That's going to take some getting used to," Cam called back over her shoulder and disappeared around the corner.

Blair smiled and followed after her.

Better get started then, lover.

Chapter Thirtysix

Andrew Powell looked up as Blair and Cam walked into the Oval Office. He set aside the report which he had been reading and gestured to the small seating area across from his desk. "Sit down. Coffee?"

"No, thank you, sir," Cam said crisply.

"I'll take some," Blair replied. She moved to the far side of the room where a small service set of cups and utensils were arranged with a coffee urn. "Dad?"

When he shook his head, she poured herself a cup and returned to sit next to Cam on the sofa, facing her father in his customary wingback chair. "I'm sorry to spring this on you so suddenly."

"It's all right. Is there a problem?"

"Not exactly," Blair said, unconsciously resting her hand on Cam's knee. "There's something I wanted to tell you before you heard about it anywhere else."

He nodded and waited.

"I've decided to make a public statement about my relationship with Cam."

His expression didn't change as he looked from his daughter to her lover. "All right."

"Lucinda is going to be unhappy about that," Blair pointed out.

"She'll deal with it." His smile was fond but his tone was flat, uncompromising. "Is there any reason that you've chosen this time, if I might ask? Has something else happened?"

Blair shrugged. She had no intention of telling him of recent developments. That was Lucinda's call. "Sooner or later the press is going to get the story. I don't want to worry every day about hiding our relationship. I'd prefer to bring it out into the open now, rather than have someone else sensationalize it." She glanced at Cam. "And we both thought the timing would be better now instead of next year when you're in the midst of your reelection campaign."

"I appreciate that, but as I said, it's not of particular concern to me. On the other hand, if you want to control the issue, I suggest you fire the first volley."

Cam nodded, and Blair replied, "That was our thought, too."

Blair took a deep breath and carefully avoided Cam's eyes. "There's one other thing. There's the problem of Cam continuing as my security chief once it becomes public knowledge that we're lovers."

Cam tried to hide her surprise. Blair had not mentioned she was going to bring this up with her father.

It's her father. And her show.

The president shifted his attention from his daughter and fixed it on Cam. "Does your relationship with my daughter affect the way you do your job?"

"Yes sir, it does," Cam said evenly as she returned his gaze steadily.

His eyebrow quirked but he gave no other sign of surprise. "How?"

"Ordinarily, sir, the only concern of the Secret Service is to ensure the physical safety of the protectee. I find that occasionally my judgment is affected by my concern for Blair's...happiness."

A fleeting smile twitched at the corner up his mouth. "Does this endanger her?"

Cam blew out a breath and considered the very issue that had concerned her since she first realized that she was falling in love with Blair Powell. "I don't think so, sir. It does provoke me to bend the rules on occasion, but in terms of her physical safety, my reactions are instinctual."

"And I'd be happier if they were a little less instinctual," Blair said darkly. "I was hoping you'd tell her she had to resign, Dad."

"I gathered that somehow." She had rarely asked him for anything. He thought about the intense wash of fear that had flooded through him the day he had been informed that shots had been fired at his only child. He had been grateful to the core that a Secret Service agent had taken the bullet meant for her. On the other hand, he could only imagine how his daughter must feel having someone she loved nearly die in her place. Carefully, he said, "Agent Roberts, if you were no longer providing security for my daughter, would your reactions be any different if she were endangered?"

"No, sir," Cam responded instantly. "Whether I am officially assigned to her or not, I'm still going to read the terrain with an eye toward her security. That's instinctual, too. If someone threatens her, I'll respond in the same way."

The President glanced at Blair, sensing that this was not an answer which would please her. "Well, it seems to me, Blair, that if she's going to behave the same way whether she's officially assigned to you or not, we might as well let her do her job."

And I'll feel a hell of a lot better.

"I can't argue the point with both of you," Blair replied resignedly. She glanced from her lover to her father. "I certainly hope this isn't a harbinger of future alliances, because if you two gang up on me like this very often, I'm going to be seriously pissed."

"I wouldn't dream of it," the president said gravely, and both Cam and Blair laughed.

When her father leaned to kiss Blair's cheek at the door of the Oval Office, he whispered, "Good luck."

 *****

As they moved through the hallways of the White House, Cam murmured, "That was a very tricky maneuver back there, Ms. Powell--hoping that your father would fire me."

Blair grinned. "It was a long shot, but I figured if he told you to resign, you wouldn't resist." She hesitated. "Are you angry?"

Cam laughed. "No. I know you had to try. Are you going to be able to live with it?"

"I'll have to."

Suddenly serious, Cam said, "Because if you aren't, I'll--"

"He's right. You're right. I surrender," Blair said with only a mild hint of annoyance. "You're going to do the same thing whether you're my security chief or not. At least if you are in charge of my team, once in a while we'll be able to pretend we have a normal life."

Cam relaxed. "That sounds very good to me."

"Well, we have one more thing to do, and then I suggest we take advantage of your day off."

"What are your plans?"

"I'm going to call Eric Mitchell and arrange an exclusive interview. I think he'll be willing to handle it tastefully. Are you ready for it?"

Cam reached down and briefly squeezed Blair's hand. "Any time you say."

*****

On their third night in Paris, they stood close together in a minuscule park on the island in the center of the Seine, the silhouette of Notre Dame looming upward in the night sky behind them. Their hands were linked where they rested on the top of the wrought iron railing while the river flowed slowly a few feet below. Thirty feet behind them in the shadow of the trees, a Secret Service agent stood guard.

The night was close around them, and the darkness offered its silent shield. They were about as alone as it was possible for them to be.

"What are you thinking about?" Cam asked quietly, marveling at the beauty of Blair's profile in the moonlight.

"Patrick Doyle."

Cam grimaced. "How unfortunate. Why?"

"Because it pisses me off that nothing's going to happen to him despite all the trouble that he caused you. I want him to suffer, somehow."

"Actually, something has happened to him," Cam reported. "I noticed in the briefings today that there's been a change of command at the Bureau office in DC. Patrick Doyle is no longer the Special Agent in Charge. He's been posted to a field office in Waukegan."

"Where is that?"

"Exactly."

"Good," Blair said vehemently. "I hope he rots there."

Cam thought of her brief encounter with Doyle the morning after she and Blair had given the interview to Eric Mitchell acknowledging their relationship. She'd gone to see Carlisle, because she'd needed to know where things stood between them. He was still her superior, and she still took orders from him. His only remark had been, "The president has complete confidence in you, and that's good enough for the Director. Just try to keep your picture off the front page, if you can."

When she'd left the office after assuring him that she had every intention of doing just that, Doyle was walking toward her. They had approached each other from opposite ends of the hallway, their eyes riveted on one another, their bodies tensed and ready for a fight.

As he drew near, Doyle hissed through clenched teeth, "You got lucky this time, Roberts, but I'd watch my back if I were you. You won't be able to hide behind Blair Powell forever."

It grated on her to even hear him say Blair's name, but she just smiled. "You still trying to scare me, Doyle? I thought by now even you'd be smart enough to figure out that doesn't work."

He lifted a fist and rocked forward on the balls of his feet, his jaw muscles bulging, but he stopped before he touched her. She remained motionless, her hands open and loose by her sides. She would love to jam her fist in his throat, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of goading her into it.

"You weren't good enough for her, Roberts." His face was flushed, his eyes hot with hatred. "She deserved better than you."

Cam's face never changed, but her eyes hardened. When she spoke, her voice was level and edged with flint. "You know, Doyle, that may be. But I know Janet was too good for you, and so did she."

And then she stepped around him and walked away, leaving him staring speechless at her back.

Sighing, Cam reached for Blair's hand and drew it to her lips. Softly, she kissed her palm. "I'd say Doyle has paid a high price for revenge."

"I don't think so," Blair grumbled, but the night was gorgeous and so was her lover and she couldn't hold onto the anger any longer. Moving closer, she rested her head against Cam's shoulder. "I love you."

"I love to hear you say that," Cam murmured. She kissed Blair's temple, then laughed softly. "Do you think the ambassador will be terminally insulted that you stole away early from his gala?"

"I doubt that he even noticed. I'm sure he was too busy glad-handing to care what I was doing."

"Well, the ambassador might not have noticed you, but the ambassador's wife certainly did," Cam observed archly.

Blair chuckled and slid her arm underneath Cam's dinner jacket and encircled her waist. "I can't imagine what you mean, Commander."

"I mean that if she had looked at you much longer with that exceptionally eager expression in her eyes, I was going to have to create an international incident."

"You can't seriously be jealous?" Blair laughed out loud.

"Oh no?" Cam turned and rested one hip against the railing, pulling Blair into her arms. Bending close, her mouth against Blair's ear, she murmured, "You are a very beautiful woman, Ms. Powell. And in this dress, I might add, a spectacularly sexy one. She wasn't the only one watching you tonight."

"The only person's attention I'm interested in is yours," Blair said huskily, linking her hands behind Cam's neck. They fit together seamlessly, and she felt the heat of Cam's body through the sheer material of her dress. "And at the moment, I'd like quite a bit more of your attention."

"Unfortunately, you're going to have to wait," Cam whispered, but her own voice shook with a swift surge of desire. "I don't think even Stark could pretend to ignore us if I did what I'm thinking of doing right here."

Blair pulled her close and kissed her, a fierce, demanding kiss that deepened as their bodies molded to one another. When she drew back, she gasped, "Patience is not my long suit."

Cam brushed her thumb along the line of Blair's jaw. "I like you hungry."

"I'm hungry now."

Blair slid her hand down Cam's chest, over her abdomen, and pressed her fingers fleetingly between her lover's thighs, smiling to herself when Cam stiffened and bite back a groan.

"Let's walk for awhile," Cam whispered, her blood racing. "Then we'll stop at the first little hotel we find and get a room for the night."

"What about Stark and Fielding?" Blair asked, inclining her head toward the darkness behind them.

"Once we're settled, I'll tell them to take the rest of the night off." Cam laughed. "I seem to recall that Renee Savard took a week's vacation and just happened to decide to spend it in Paris. I doubt very much that Stark will complain about working a few hours less tonight."

"You know," Blair mused, linking her fingers once again with her lover. "There are some real advantages to your position, Commander."

As they began to walk beneath the stars in the city made for lovers, Cam replied softly, "I love my work."

Blair laughed, embracing the woman--and the love--that had taught her that freedom is a thing of the heart.

The End  

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This story is a work of fiction and is not intended to represent any particular individual, alive or dead. This work may not be printed or distributed for profit without the express written permission of the author. This work is registered with the US Copyright Office.

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