Radclyffe - Honor 02 - Honor Bound Page 5

  The silence deepened.

  While Cam had been talking, Blair watched the flurry of emotions race across her face. She had seen her go from anger and frustration to this implacable façade that she recognized as the barrier Cam placed between her emotions and everything else in order to do her job. In the rational part of her mind, Blair understood that that was what made Cam so good at what she did, but it was not what she wanted between them . She did not want Cam to distance herself in order to care for her. She wasn't sure exactly what she wanted, but she was very certain it wasn't that. Her own frustration and fear surfaced, and she said caustically, "That's your solution to everything, isn't it, Cameron? Tighten the security, tighten the restraints around me. That's a simple answer, and easy for you. However, it doesn't work for me."

  With effort, Cam said quietly, "This isn't something that's negotiable. This man is serious. He's persistent and clever and talented and he's fixated on you. By all rights, you should be secluded somewhere until he can be apprehended."

  At that thought, every survival instinct Blair had emerged on a wave of irrational terror. She would not be made a captive. She had been imprisoned in one way or another her entire life. Nothing mattered more to her than her freedom, nothing except one thing. "I don't want you on this detail, Roberts. I can't work with you. I won't work with you. If you won't resign, I'll do what I have to do to get you pulled off."

  "I spoke with your father this afternoon," Cam said darkly. "He seems to feel that I'm the best person for this job. So do I. This is one time your influence is not going to have any effect."

  Blair stared at her, opened-mouthed in astonishment. When she could find her voice, she said incredulously, "You spoke with my father?"

  Cam walked a few feet towards a nearby sofa and leaned against the back, trying to work out some of the tension in her body. She felt wound so tight she was afraid she'd lose control, and at this point, Blair's very future could depend upon what happened between them in the next few minutes. "It was unexpected. He showed up at the briefing about this - situation."

  Thinking back, it had been a strange encounter.

  The President had acted as if Doyle and Cam hadn't been about to fling themselves over the table at each other, merely motioning to the people gathered with one hand and saying, "Sit, please."

  They had done so, and the NSA representative introduced the others and hastened to assure the President that everything possible was being done to protect his daughter. Andrew Powell said nothing, listening quietly and studying each face carefully. After a minute or two he said, "I'm sure that everything is being done appropriately. I'm on a tight schedule and I'd like to speak with Agent Roberts, if your meeting is concluded."

  That was clearly a dismissal.

  Lindsey Ryan stood immediately and began gathering her things, as did Stewart Carlisle. Doyle and Owens looked like they might object for a moment, and then with slightly disgruntled expressions, filed out of the room. When the door closed, for the first time in her life, Cam stood alone facing the President of the United States. Their eyes met and Cam asked, "What may I do for you, Mr. President?"

  A very faint smile flickered across his handsome face. She saw Blair in him as his features briefly softened, and in that instant, her anger turned to hard resolve. She would not allow Blair to become a pawn in some ambitious bureaucrat's political game, nor would she see her become the object of a psychotic's obsession.

  "It seems that I need to rely on you again, Agent Roberts, to look after my daughter. I'm sure the task force is doing everything they can, but I know my daughter, and she is not going to make this easy for anyone."

  "Sir," Cam began, intending to defend Blair. Given the circumstances, her security team had had the least problems of any working with her.

  He raised his hand as if he knew what she were going to say. He looked past her for a moment, as if seeing something she couldn't. "She didn't choose this life - I chose it for her. It's been hard for her. I know that. She's strong and she's stubborn and I wouldn't change anything about her. I'm counting on you to see that both her freedom and her safety continue."

  "Yes sir, Mr. President," Cam said very quietly, her eyes never leaving his. "I'll do that, sir. You can depend on it."

  He had nodded, thanked her, and left the room. Had she not had her own motives for needing to be involved, his unspoken command would have been enough. But she did have her own reasons. And they were very personal.

  Cam looked at Blair and said softly, "I'm sorry, Blair. I'm staying."

  Chapter eight

  I'm staying. The words screamed in Blair's head. Words she wanted to hear from her, but not this way. Not like this. Not because of this. She couldn't have this conversation any longer. She couldn't think about what it meant for either of them. I'm staying.

  She grabbed her bag from a nearby table and snapped, "Well, I'm not. I'm going out."

  Cam made no move to stop her. She would not be her jailor. But when she spoke, her voice held a question. "Blair?"

  Something in the almost defeated tone of Cam's voice stopped her. It was a weariness she had rarely heard in her, even after she'd worked days on no sleep. Blair turned from the door, looking back at her where she still leaned against the back of the sofa. She had been almost too angry to see her clearly before, but now the shadows in Cam's face stood out in gaunt relief. It was her eyes, though, that gave her away. They were dull with fatigue, flickering with something close to despair. She hadn't looked like that even when she'd been in the hospital recovering from her wounds.

  "What?" Blair asked, softer than she had meant, struggling with a nearly irresistible urge to go to her. It was so hard to hold onto her anger when she so wanted to hold her.

  "Have you told them downstairs that you're going out?" Cam asked, pushing herself upright.

  "No," Blair answered curtly, just as quickly irritated again as Cam resumed her official role.

  "Is it a personal engagement?" Cam continued, keeping her voice carefully neutral. She had to ask in order to do her job, but she didn't need or want to know the details if Blair was seeing someone. "Will you need the car?" She searched her memory for the day's itinerary, which she had reviewed the night before. After the day she had just spent in Washington that seemed like a month ago to her now. And of course it was before she knew that Blair wasn't really safe anywhere. They would have to provide much closer coverage than they usually did even for non-official functions. "We didn't have you scheduled for anything tonight."

  "It was a last minute thing," Blair informed her. She always hated discussing her private plans with her security people. It made her feel so exposed. This was worse. Reluctantly she added, "It's a party at Diane's."

  Cam's expression didn't change, but she knew what Blair was saying. A party meant it was not 'official'. If it were a date, it was none of her business. "Can you give me a few minutes to get someone for you? Stark and Grant are both off-duty, and you'll want a woman."

  Blair opened the door and stepped into the hallway. "Fielding and Foster can wait in the car outside Diane's apartment. They always have before."

  Cam followed her out of the loft, already activating her radio. "Fielding, bring the car around, and find Ellen Grant or Stark for me. ASAP." She crossed to the elevator and said flatly, "I need someone inside."

  "It's Diane's, for Christ's sake," Blair replied with irritation, punching the lobby button. "Do you think he's going to show up in drag?"

  "I don't know what he's going to do!" Cam retorted in an uncharacteristically aggravated tone. "Until twelve hours ago, I didn't even know he was active."

  Blair had no answer for that. She had ignored the first few messages she received by post, hoping they were just random crank mail, unrelated to what had happened before. She got them from time to time, usually from disgruntled individuals who didn't like her father's politics. Sometimes from overenthusiastic supporters. Occasionally from people obsessed with her, asking for photos or
dates or even articles of clothing. But never anything quite like these messages. Intimate, suggestive, and most frighteningly, knowledgeable. When the email started, she had confided in her friend at the Bureau and that had been a mistake. Friendship has it limits, and her old school chum had decided that it was news she couldn't keep to herself.

  "You didn't need to know. Doyle knew," Blair retorted as the elevator opened onto the lobby, still angry with AJ for reporting it.

  Cam didn't bother to point out that she needed to know for any number of reasons, not all of them professional, because it was done. Blair had shut her out, and there was nothing to do now but regain control of the situation.

  Blair walked toward the front door, acutely aware that Cam had moved slightly ahead of her to go through first. Unexpectedly she saw it all again in slow-motion replay - the bright sunlight, the screams of frantic men, the spreading blossom of rich red on Cam's chest as she dropped first to her knees, then collapsed to her back on the sidewalk. By then the other agents had pulled Blair inside, behind the glass doors, and she couldn't reach her. She couldn't hold her.

  "Blair?" Cam asked, concerned by Blair's sudden pallor.

  Blair jerked at the sound of Cam's voice and hurried to cross the sidewalk, the image of Cam's ashen face as she lay dying mercifully beginning to fade. Cam opened the car door and Blair brushed her fingers lightly over Cam's sleeve, reassured by the solid presence of her. She didn't trust herself to speak but just slid into the rear of the black sedan parked at the curb.

  *

  Diane Bleeker kissed Blair lightly on the cheek as she admitted her to a room already filled with people. The lights were conversationally dim, female servers in white shirts, black bow ties, and tailored black trousers moved carefully through the crowd with trays of hors d'oeuvres balanced in front of them. Soft music accompanied the murmur of voices.

  "Your choice of escorts is improving," Diane remarked, a hint of surprise in her voice as she watched Cam move to one side of the spacious living room.

  "I'm alone," Blair responded, slipping past her and heading for the bar that had been set up in one corner.

  Diane threaded her way through the crowd in Blair's wake, reaching for a glass of white wine as Blair waited for the very attractive redheaded bartender in the tuxedo shirt and tight black leather pants to mix her a drink. "If you needed a date, I could have found you one. Marcie Coleman has been trying to get you to go out with her for weeks. You could do worse than a successful young surgeon, you know."

  Blair took her drink, scarcely noticing the appraising glance that the bartender gave her along with the glass, and turned to look at the other women in the room. As always at Diane's gatherings, the women were a mix of aspiring artists, many of whom were Diane's clients, young professionals, or bar dykes from the Village who were there as escorts or just tagging along with someone they knew and hoping to get lucky. Diane always managed to provide something for everyone.

  "I'm not interested in a date ," Blair said acerbically, making an effort not to look in Cam's direction. She had years of practice at ignoring her security detail. Once she had gotten used to their ubiquitous presence, they had simply become background noise. When she was a preteen, it hadn't been as difficult, because her father had only been a governor then. Other than the fact that state troopers often drove her to school and parked nearby while she engaged in after-school activities, she had been able to pretend she was like everyone else. Unfortunately, at fifteen she learned that she wasn't. That was when she and her prep school roommate had made love for the first time, and Blair had learned that there are certain things best kept secret.

  When her father became Vice President, and it was apparent that he would be the party's nominee for President after eight years, the security around her had intensified. She became very good at convincing herself that she wasn't being watched almost twenty-four hours a day, but there was nothing she could do to ignore Cameron Roberts's presence. She could feel her as strongly as if they stood touching.

  Diane smiled knowingly. "I was trying to be polite when I said date. I'm sure the very charming Dr. Coleman would be just as happy to spend the night with you, if that's what you had in mind."

  Blair turned and met Diane's eyes, replying caustically, "If and when I decide I want someone to fuck, I'm quite certain I can manage the arrangements on my own."

  If Diane was taken aback by Blair's sharp retort, she didn't show it. She knew from long experience that the best way to get Blair to talk about anything substantial was to anger her. Blair had gotten much too proficient at disguising almost all of her emotions, but when she was angry, she forgot to hide them. Diane was one of the few people who could actually goad her into revealing herself, which was probably the reason they were still friends. "Well, if I had that criminally good-looking number watching me all night with that smoldering expression in her eyes, I probably wouldn't be looking for anyone else either."

  Blair didn't have to look at Cam to know exactly what Diane referred to. Cam had a way of looking at her that made her feel as if she were the only woman in the room. She reminded herself that Cam was only doing her job, but no one else had ever looked at her in quite that way. Paula Stark, for all her competence, and despite the night they had shared together, never looked at her that way. Blair's hand trembled as she raised the martini glass to her lips. "Don't, Diane. Not tonight."

  Diane relented. Blair's voice was raw, and her eyes were wounded. She touched Blair's hand fleetingly, and said quietly, "I don't care what you think is happening between you two, she cares. She can't hide it anymore than you can." She tossed her head in a practiced motion, her blond hair sweeping her shoulders, and began to move away. "You may not be in the mood for company tonight, but I am. It's time for me to prowl."

  Blair watched Diane move sinuously off through the crowd and wondered how long it would take her to make her way around the room to Cam. And she wished to god she didn't care.

  Chapter nine

  When the well-built brunette in the tee shirt, jeans and Nikes walked in the door at a little before one a.m., more than a few heads turned in appreciation. She looked like an ex-soccer player, which, among other things, she was. It had taken Ellen Grant a little over an hour from the time Ed Fielding tracked her down at her mother-in-law's in West Chester to make it to the party at Diane Bleeker's Upper East Side apartment. She had considered changing her clothes and then decided not to, figuring she'd probably fit in with at least some part of the gathering.

  Cam sighed with uncharacteristic relief at the sight of her backup. It wasn't so much her bone-deep tiredness that was wearing at her, but the necessity of watching Blair dance with the same woman for the last half hour while trying to ignore the fact that the woman's hand rested very subtly on Blair's left breast.

  "Sorry, Commander," Ellen Grant said quietly when they managed to work their way over to one another. "I was at my husband's birthday party."

  "No apologies required, Grant. I regret the need to call you away from your family." Cam passed her hand across her eyes, rubbing them briefly, then smiled thinly. "I'm afraid I got caught short tonight. You're bailing me out."

  Grant glanced at her in concern, catching the strain in her voice and wondering if she was all right. Cameron Roberts was a legend to every agent in the field because of what she had done that day in front of Blair Powell's apartment, but to her own team, she was a flesh-and-blood hero. "Not a problem. I can take over now, Commander."

  "Yes," Cam said. "Thank you."

  Instead of leaving, Cam walked through the room and out onto a small iron-railed balcony with a view of Central Park. She took a deep breath of the crisp night air and rested both hands on the railing, aware of the ache in her left side along the ten-inch scar between her fourth and fifth ribs. It didn't usually bother her, or at least most of the time she could ignore it.

  "Off duty now, Commander?" Blair asked quietly from beside her. "You look like you could use some sleep."
>
  Cam, still leaning forward, turned her head and glimpsed the quick flicker of moonlight playing over Blair's face. The sight caught at her heart. Surrendering for just an instant to the soft undercurrent of warmth in Blair's voice and the real concern in her gaze, Cam let herself relax.

  "Yes," Cam answered eventually, "airplane seats are always a little short for me to sleep in very well. Grant's taking over now."

  They both knew that wasn't strictly true. She was never off duty, through choice as well as convention.

  Blair stood next to her at the rail, close enough to touch her, but being careful not to. She didn't trust herself enough to do that. She wasn't even sure why she had followed her outside. But the night was disappearing and they were here, almost alone. Tomorrow people would surround them again, and she had no idea when they would have even a few moments of privacy. She couldn't bear to see her go, not yet. "What's going to happen now?"

  Cam watched the headlights far below trace patterns of lights through the treetops and considered the future. It never even occurred to her not to inform Blair of her plans, although some might consider that inappropriate. It was Blair's life that was affected, and she deserved to know. "We'll need to go to high alert status. I'll talk to Mac and Stark about that tomorrow. You'll need agents physically with you whenever possible, extra security at public functions, and less information about your travel plans made available to the press."

  "Everything will be closing down around me, won't it?" Blair asked, sounding nearly as done-in as Cam appeared.

  "These are the things that will impact you most directly, yes," Cam allowed. There was much more that needed to be done, and she hoped she could accomplish them without making Blair even unhappier. "I'm sorry."

  Blair believed her. It had taken more than raw physical attraction to capture her heart. Cam, as no one before her, understood. Cam understood how she felt to be never alone, to be never free, to be never capable of spontaneous action. Cam understood even though she couldn't change it.