CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 3 page

"Another walk?"

Blair leaned over the railing and looked down into the shadows. Paula Stark looked back. "I'm going out for awhile."

"Then I guess I am, too."

"Why don't you continue your perimeter check and pretend you didn't see me?" Blair started down the stairs again.

Stark met her at the bottom and said, "We both know I can't. I don't even want to. It's my job to be with you tonight, especially if you're outside this building."

Blair regarded her steadily, surprised by the somber tone in her voice. She'd always known Stark was incredibly responsible and almost obsessively dedicated to her job, but tonight, there was something else in her voice. Maturity perhaps. For a moment there, she'd sounded like Cam. "Any room for negotiation?"

"No. I need to inform Mac that we're leaving home base. I'd like to be able to tell him where we're going."

"I don't know yet. I just want to get a drink and..."

"Please. You don't need to explain to me, Ms. Powell. It's only our destination I have any interest in. Would you object to taking the cars?"

"I'd rather walk." As they spoke, Blair moved off down the path that cut through the dense shrubbery toward the street and the sidewalk.

Stark fell in beside her and pulled her cell from her belt. She spoke softly as they walked, informing Mac that Egret was moving, destination undetermined. Mac, she knew, would detail Hernandez to the car and eventually, wherever she and Blair stopped, the other agent would eventually show up. In all likelihood, Mac would order one other agent to join Hernandez in the car for backup. It was somewhat unorthodox to have only one agent on foot, but typical of the way they were forced to deploy with the First Daughter. Egret didn't welcome their presence and rarely made it easy for them. However, the Commander had made it clear that despite Egret's objections, security would be provided. Stark had no intention of leaving her unguarded, no matter what she had to do.

"Let's take a streetcar," Blair said impulsively, heading to the corner just as a car trundled up the steep hill.

Hastening to follow, Stark grabbed onto the rail as Blair jumped up onto the step that ran on the outside of the car.

“Grab on,” Blair called, extending her hand and laughing as Stark ran a few steps alongside and finally caught her hand.

“Thanks,” Stark puffed as she pulled herself up. Wouldn’t that have been just terrific if I’d lost her because I was too slow. I’ve got to start running. Pumping iron is just not enough.

Their hands touched as they both grasped the vertical pole for support. The streetcar lurched off and the two of them rocked back and forth, shoulder to shoulder, facing one another. It was the kind of thing that tourists always did, but Stark had never been a tourist in San Francisco before. It was the kind of thing that lovers did as well.

The experience was both exhilarating and slightly confusing. Blair Powell was a beautiful woman, and Stark remembered all too clearly what it felt like when the hand that was lightly brushing hers now had done more than that for the few hours they had spent together in a remote hotel room in the Rockies. Those hands had been accomplished and unexpectedly tender, and the memory echoed forcibly through her. Their faces were only inches apart, and in the flickering intermittent glow of the street lights, she could see Blair's slightly parted lips and her sensuous smile, and for a moment, desire twisted within her.

Quickly, Stark averted her gaze.

"You okay?" Blair asked, leaning back to let the wind course through her hair.

"Yeah, sure." Damn, when will I learn not to telegraph my every thought and feeling. Cripes, some Secret Service agent.

"Come on," Blair said a few moments later, leaping down before the car had even pulled to a stop. "This is Market Street, the end of the line. Let's walk for a while."

Stark glanced around and her stomach lurched. There were more street people than she had anticipated...a motley gathering of homeless and transients, many of whom were aggressively panhandling or standing around in groups of two or more. Definitely a security nightmare. She could only hope that no one recognized Blair.

"This is a bad idea, Ms. Powell. Let's wait for Hernandez and the Suburban. It’ll only be a minute or two."

"Come on, Stark where's your sense of adventure?" Blair asked as she turned to her right and started walking southwest down Market—toward the Tenderloin and away from the relative safety of the more populated downtown area.

"I don't think I have a sense of adventure," Stark mumbled, hurrying to catch up. She lifted her wrist and radioed their location, grateful that Blair did not complain about that, at least. The Suburban, outfitted with everything they could possibly need, including automatic weapons, body armor and extensive medical equipment, would be in the vicinity in a minute or two. If they were going to walk, at least they'd have someone at their backs.

CHAPTER SEVEN

They trekked the length of Market Street to the corner of Castro. At nearly 11:00 p.m. on a Friday night, the heart of the Castro District was alive with activity. The sidewalks were wall-to-wall people...tourists and locals alike. Whereas once the area had been the exclusive domain of gay men, and somewhat clandestine, it was now much more upscale and civilized. Nevertheless, interspersed with the trendy restaurants and boutiques, the gay bars and sex clubs still flourished. For the next hour, Blair browsed the bookstores and bars with Stark shadowing her at a respectable distance. They didn’t speak.

The first few bars they stopped in were relatively bright, airy places that catered to an upscale clientele. They stayed awhile in each, while Blair sipped a glass of wine or seltzer and pensively watched the couples or soon-to-be lovers dancing.

It seemed pretty uneventful and Stark began to relax. Big mistake.

Around midnight, Blair halted in front of a nondescript establishment that bore a simple hand-lettered, board sign..."Skins". From the look of the men and occasional woman entering, it was a leather bar.

Blair glanced at Stark. "You want to wait outside?"

"I'll come in, thanks," Stark replied, as if she had any particular choice in the matter.

As soon as they entered, Blair said, "See you in a bit." And promptly disappeared.

One look around the dark smoky club and Stark's stomach dropped. Visibility was zero, the music was loud, and sex was in the air. At the far end of the single square room, a small dance floor was crowded with bodies in various stages of undress writhing to a heavy metal beat. The unadorned bar along one wall was three-deep in people jostling to get their drinks. Stark judged that unless she stayed physically attached to Egret, she wouldn't be of much use as security. And staying attached to her was neither advisable nor possible. Deciding she had no good alternatives, Stark moved deeper into the room to look for a vantage point along the wall opposite the bar from where she could watch the entrance and still have some view into the darker recesses of the rear. It was the best she could manage. When she finally staked out a two foot square spot that would do, she radioed her location to Mac and the agents in the car. Mac’s blistering response did not help her nerves.

Blair insinuated her way through the bodies and eventually reached the bar. A few minutes later, beer in hand, she made her way to a rear corner where she could get her back against the wall and have a view of the dance floor. The crowd was almost all male, most of the men shirtless in threadbare jeans or tight leather pants that displayed what they had come there to offer. Here and there she saw a woman, dressed in denim or leather, too, and usually wearing a tight tank top like her own that displayed toned muscles and untethered breasts. It was a bar like dozens of other bars that she had been in, heavy with the scent of booze and sex and something dangerous. It was no different than it had ever been, and yet it was completely different.

The first woman to approach her was a heavily muscled dark-skinned woman with close-cut hair and a row of silver studs in her left ear. Her sleeveless black T-shirt fit her so seamlessly that she might have been naked. Sweat glistened on the expanse of chest left bare by the deep V in the neck, and her skin-tight leather pants outlined every sinew in her powerful thighs.

"Dance?"

Blair smiled and shook her head. "No, thanks."

Clearly surprised, the other woman cocked her head and ran her eyes slowly up and down Blair's body, lingering on her breasts before meeting her eyes again. "That's not the message you’re sending."

"Sorry, not tonight."

"You just here to tease?"

Again Blair shook her head, still smiling. "No." She shrugged. "I'm just here to pass the time."

"Suit yourself, but you don't know what you're missing."

As the woman turned to walk away, Blair flashed on Cam's face. Oh yes, I do.

Over the next hour as she finished her beer and had another, she refused several more invitations to dance and, in one case, a less subtle offer to share a few moments of bodily contact in the alley behind the bar. She was watching a particularly handsome male couple dancing when she felt a hand close over her shoulder from behind. She didn’t stiffen or react in any way, but she shifted her balance until she was centered and slowly set her bottle down on the ledge near her elbow. Turning her head only slightly, she said, "You need to move your hand or lose it. Right now."

A body pressed close against her in the crowd, a crotch moved against her ass, and fingers stroked down along her bare arm. Lips brushed her ear.

Just as she was preparing to grasp the intruding wrist and twist away, a voice murmured in her ear.

"I'd give anything I have to be..."

Blair spun around, her arms coming up and around Cam's shoulders as she pushed her lover against the wall and kissed her, all in one swift motion.

It didn’t matter to her a bit that she’d been vacillating between worry and anger all night, wondering where Cam was, wondering why she hadn’t called, wondering how she was ever going to be able to control the terrible ache she felt when they were apart. What mattered was that at the sound of Cam’s voice and the touch of her hand, every single thing in her life made sense. Every cell came alive, every breath felt sharper, every thought clearer. Urgently, hungrily, she molded her body to Cam’s, her blood running hot and fast just from the feel of her skin.

Finally, breathing heavily, Blair leaned back, her thighs and pelvis still glued to Cam's. The hard press of the agent’s inside-pants holster registered against her leg and suddenly she was reminded of where they were and what she had just done. Breathlessly, she whispered, "Jesus, Cam... Stark is in here somewhere."

"No, she isn't. I sent her out when I came in. I assured her I'd be able to provide close protection."

Even in the hazy light, Blair saw Cam's electric grin. She saw something else as well. Cam looked gaunt, circles under her eyes marred her handsome face and the tightness in her jaw belied the strain that she couldn't hide.

"Cam, you look beat. Did you get any sleep at all?"

"I slept on the plane."

“How do you feel?”

“Rough,” Can admitted, because she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide it for long. She had slept on the flight, and that had helped. The headache persisted. The neurologist who’d seen her in the Emergency Room, the one who’d wanted to admit her after the explosion four nights before, had warned her that it might be with her for a while. It seemed a little better, though, and her stomach was more settled. “Nothing a few days away from D.C won’t cure.”

"Why didn't you call me—tell me you were coming?"

"Sorry. I drove right to the airport from Treasury. I always have an emergency bag in my trunk, and I just grabbed that and caught the first plane out."

Blair knew that kind of behavior was unusual for Cam. "Was it that bad back there?"

"About like I expected."

Blair nodded, knowing there was more, but for the moment, all she really wanted to do was hold her. "Look, let's get out of here. We can..."

Suddenly she remembered the car somewhere outside filled with Secret Service agents. In the past if she’d wanted to be alone with a woman she'd met in a bar, she'd use the back door and disappear for a few hours. But this was different; this wasn't just any woman...this was the superior of the agents waiting outside. "Fuck, what can we do? I need to be alone with you. Just for a little while."

"Let's go to the beach."

"What?"

Cam took her hand. "Trust me."

CHAPTER EIGHT

They caught a cab on the corner of Castro and Market, and while Blair directed the driver, Cam radioed instructions for the agents in the surveillance vehicle to follow them. When the cab pulled to the curb at the end of Polk across from the bay, they paid and climbed out.

"I'll just be a second," Cam said as she and Blair walked back toward the Suburban that sat idling behind their cab. When she leaned down to the open driver's side window of the Suburban, Hernandez looked up. "Two of you stay with the car—whoever's on swing shift is relieved."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Keep your eye on foot traffic on the beach."

"Roger."

As she turned away, the rear door opened and John Fielding climbed out. She nodded to him. "Fielding."

"Commander," he rejoined before heading off to find his way back to the hotel.

Guided by starlight, she and Blair crossed the sidewalk and climbed down to the beach, then walked a hundred yards over the sandy soil toward the bay. As they drew close to the water's edge, Cam pointed toward a projecting outcropping of stone.

"This looks good."

Taking Blair's hand, she led her around the far side of the rocks and settled onto the hard-packed earth, pulling Blair down beside her. The surf was only a few yards away, tossing ghostly fingers of froth up onto the moonlit sand. The salt spray rapidly misted their skin, and in the middle of the night, the air was chilly, even in August.

"You cold?" Cam asked, her back against the stone. Their location was isolated from view of the car, and no one could approach them without being seen by the agents stationed on the road above. It was at once private and secure.

"No, not with you here." Blair settled against Cam's right side, her arm circling Cam's waist, her head nestled on Cam's shoulder. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you had practice at this kind of thing."

"Oh? What kind of thing would that be?"

"Eluding the Secret Service."

"Ah. I have been giving it some thought," Cam murmured, pressing her lips to Blair's temple. "I didn't sleep all the way here—the rest of the time I thought about you."

"They've got to be wondering," Blair said quietly, tugging Cam's shirttail free from the waistband of her trousers and slipping her hand beneath, resting her palm on the warm skin of her abdomen.

"I'm sure they are—but you needn't worry about it." As she followed wisps of clouds streaking across the face of the moon, she thought how much better it was to be watching the sky with Blair beside her. D.C seemed a world away. Slowly, she stroked the length of Blair's bare arm, fingertips lightly tracing the firm muscles. "Blair, you're the President's daughter. That works for us as much as it works against us. The Secret Service has a long legacy of silence when it comes to protecting the privacy of the President and that extends to his family. My agents will not betray you."

"It's not me I care about." She traced a rib, smoothing her fingertips over the scar. It's you. It's my father.

"I know that. But I care about you." Cam tightened her hold on her, shifting on the sand until her chest and thighs were pressed to Blair's. "If and when you want to share your personal life with the world, it should be your choice. And it shouldn't be the fodder for anyone else's political agenda."

"My personal life has a lot to do with you," Blair whispered, just before her lips found Cam's and she lost her words in the warm welcome of Cam's mouth.

"Yeah," Cam agreed a lifetime later when she finally thought to breathe again. "But no one will care about me—"

"People in D.C—at Treasury...could make it difficult for you."

People like Doyle, maybe. Cam shrugged and drew her finger along the edge of Blair's jaw. "I'm not worried about that."

"Then what are you worried about?" Blair asked suddenly, leaning back enough to study Cam's face. In the slanting shadows cast by starlight off the water, the sharp angles and planes were even more strikingly handsome. Her voice suddenly thick, she asked softly, "What happened in D.C the last two days?"

Cam sighed. "You don't give up, do you?"

"If I did," Blair said as she moved her hand to the inside of Cam's thigh, stroking upward along the thin material of her trousers, "we wouldn't be here right now."

"True." Cam lifted her hips into Blair's palm as the teasing touch turned firmer, more insistent. "It was mostly routine, but with something this critical—with agents down and a high-profile target like..." She hesitated, realizing how clinical her words sounded. Blair's hand stopped moving, then drew away.

"Like me?"

"Yes," Cam admitted with a sigh. "Like you. It has to be looked at carefully."

"So is it over? Are you okay?"

Cam hesitated. "I don't know yet." She found Blair's hand and placed it back on her thigh. "But when I do know, I'll tell you."

"Good," Blair murmured, leaning close again, finding the heat high between Cam's legs. Her breath caught at way her lover's body surged in answer to her touch. "I love the way you feel," she whispered. "I want to be all over you, inside you… I feel like I could swallow you whole."

As she spoke, her fingers found what she was seeking through the folds of material, and she squeezed Cam's clitoris lightly. "I could start with this."

Cam's body grew weak, and if she hadn't been sitting, she probably would have fallen down. "Ah, hell. We can't—here."

"Mmm, I know. But, God, I want to."

"Uh huh, that makes two of us," Cam muttered, wondering if she could possibly stay awake long enough, because it wouldn't take much. Her blood was raging but her mind was on the verge of shutting down. "Blair—I'm..."

"What?"

"I'm beat—I don't think I can."

Blair sat up, instantly serious. "Let's go."

"I'm sorry, I..."

Blair laughed, insinuating a hand behind her head and leaning over to kiss her. No less passionately, but with a definite sense of finality. When she pulled back, she said, "Cam. You almost got blown up a few nights ago. You've been on your feet the better part of a week. You've got a concussion and God knows what else."

Getting to her knees, Blair pushed back her hair with both hands and took a deep breath of the cool night air. "Come along, Commander. I can wait."

Cam caught her hand and held on, preventing her from rising. "I'm not sure I can. I've missed you."

"Oh," Blair replied softly. "I've missed you, too."

She bent forward and kissed Cam, long and hard, then pushed quickly away and got to her feet. From a safe distance, she placed her hands on her hips and said mock-threateningly, “I’ve never been known for my patience. Now, move it.”

Laughing, her heart lighter than she could ever remember, Cam got to her feet and followed the retreating form of the First Daughter into the shadows.

Within minutes, they were both seated in the rear seat of the Suburban. Stark rode in the front passenger seat while Hernandez drove. Cam leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. The next thing she knew, Blair was gently shaking her shoulder.

"Commander, we're here."

Disoriented, Cam jerked awake and looked rapidly out her window, body tense and battle ready. As soon as she recognized the unique architecture and topography of her mother's street, she relaxed perceptibly. Clearing her throat, she said hoarsely, "Right."

Stark opened Blair's door and held it as Blair stepped out. Cam exited on the other side of the vehicle and walked around to meet her, by which time Fernandez had joined them as well. The four of them moved up the sidewalk to Marcea's front door in a formation so practiced it had become second nature. A dim light glowed through the windows of the first floor living room fronting the street, and Cam smiled to herself at the welcoming beacon. She’d rarely had time to visit her mother’s home, but it was the only place on the planet where she ever felt truly at ease.

Stark unlocked the door and preceded the small group into the still house. As soon as the door closed behind them, she and Hernandez moved quietly away to perform their routine house check. Cam and Blair climbed the stairs leading from the far side of the living room to the second floor. They stopped in the hallway at the end farthest from Marcea's bedroom.

"I guess I won't be sleeping with you tonight," Blair said with resignation as she ran her fingers lightly down Cam's chest.

Cam caught her hand and their fingers immediately entwined. "I don't believe there's any law against you tucking me in."

"That could be a dangerous suggestion, Commander," Blair replied, her voice husky.

"I'll risk it."

Cam lead the way partway down the hall and opened the door to the second guest room. As Blair waited in the darkness just inside, Cam crossed to the bathroom, switched on the light, and pulled the door closed until only a thin shaft of light illuminated the bedroom. It was enough for them to navigate between the dresser, an upholstered chair next to a reading lamp, and the bed. With a sigh, she shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it over the back of the chair. She released the clasp on the right side of her shoulder harness and with a practiced motion slid it down her arms and off. By that time, Blair had crossed the space between them and stood a few inches in front of her.

"Let me do the rest."

"Now that's a dangerous suggestion," Cam murmured. She stood still as Blair's deft fingers unbuttoned her shirt and drew the narrow black belt from her trousers. Obediently, she lifted her arms as her lover stripped the shirt from her and dropped it onto the chair with her jacket. As she reached out, intending to place her arms around Blair's waist, Blair stepped back out of reach.

"Hey," Cam protested, surprised.

"Cam, don't," Blair said, her voice oddly still. "I'm not that strong."

"Blair..."

"I mean it. You need to get some rest. And if you touch me, I'm going to forget that." She stepped forward again. "Now stand still."

With practiced efficiency, she unzipped Cam's pants and worked them down along with her briefs over her hips in one motion.

Cam kicked out of her loafers and stepped free of her clothing.

"Now what," Cam asked thickly, her heart thudding just from the unintentional flicker of Blair's fingers over her skin.

"Now, you get into bed," Blair replied, her voice just as thick.

Reluctantly, Cam complied and couldn't quite prevent her sigh of exhaustion as she stretched out under the sheet. Blair leaned down, kissed her chastely, and ran her fingers through Cam's thick dark hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow."

As she turned to go, Cam's lids were already fluttering closed. Just as Blair reached for the door knob, she heard the deep voice float to her on the night air. "I love you."

"I love you," she whispered.

Then she let herself out and crossed the hall to her own bed, knowing it would be a long time before she slept.

CHAPTER NINE

At 9:20 the next morning, Cam rolled over and opened her eyes.

Sunlight streaked through the window on the left side of the room and for a moment, she lay still, listening for sound in the house. It was very quiet. She briefly considered crossing the hall to Blair's room and perhaps finding her there alone. Much of her fatigue had been assuaged by six hours of solid sleep. The headache was a very distant echo, and for the time being, of no consequence. What was much more disruptive was the persistent pulse of desire that had not abated during the night.

Great idea...sex in your mother's house with your team members outside the door. The thought of either one should cool your fire.

It didn't. Instead she recalled the way Blair had looked in the half light of the bar, sleek and taut and dangerous. Then in the moonlight on the beach, her face had softened, but the hunger still burned in her eyes. Cam remembered, too, how ready she had been to be devoured.

Time to douse the coals before I go up in flames.

Smiling to herself, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, stood, and stretched. Naked, she walked to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and waited for the water temperature to equilibrate. She showered and dressed with her usual efficiency, noting that she'd have to buy clothes before the gallery opening that evening. It was one thing to travel light, but she wasn't certain how long Blair planned to stay in San Francisco, and if it were any longer than another twenty-four hours, she'd run out of things to wear.

As it was, she pulled on chinos and a black polo shirt, which for her was unusually casual for a workday. Once again, she slid the slim body-contouring holster on the inside of the trousers and went downstairs to check in with her team.

The dining room and living room were empty, as was the kitchen. Fortunately, a carafe of coffee waited on the counter with a ceramic mug she recognized beside it. She'd made if for her father when she was ten.

A piece of paper extended from under it. Pulling it out, she read in her mother's distinctive hand, Cam. I'm in the studio. Come up when you're ready.

Cam poured coffee and found a banana in a basket next to the refrigerator. Carrying her coffee and fruit, she climbed the rear stairs to the third floor. She paused at the studio door, uncertain if her mother might be working.

"Hello?"

"Cameron? Is that you?" came her mother's voice from the far end of the studio.

"Yep. Okay to come in?"

"Always." Marcea came forward with a fond smile on her face. She stopped before her daughter, who was an inch or two taller, and stood on her toes to kiss Cam's cheek. "It's good to see you."

"You, too," Cam said, looking around for safe place to rest her coffee mug.

"Here," Marcea said, removing a cork coaster from underneath a pile of loose sketch sheets, pencils, and drawing pens. She placed it on a nearby stand. "How are you?"

"Fine," Cam responded, wondering just how much her mother knew about the recent events. The threats on Blair's life and the bloody resolution had been downplayed in the press, but Blair could have told her. She doubted, though, that Blair would have mentioned her own injuries to Marcea. Not after what had happened earlier that year. She rested a hip on the edge of a long counter that held an assortment of art supplies and peeled the banana. "It's been hectic. I'm a bit tired is all."

"Well, hopefully the opening tonight won't be taxing," Marcea said, pulling over a tall stool and sitting next to Cam.

"Where is everyone?" Cam asked.

"Blair went running, and Paula and Felicia went with her."

Can frowned momentarily, running through her mind the intelligence reports of the immediate area they'd hastily gathered before Blair’s trip. Nothing to be worried about, but still... "Is someone in the car, too?"

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 826