CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

"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 D.C 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.

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 599