Chapter Twenty-Nine

Stark sat on the side of the bed watching Savard dress, uneasiness coiling in the pit of her stomach like a viper poised to strike. Her fingers cramped as she clenched her hands tightly around the edge of the mattress. The covers were thrown back, exposing the crumpled sheets where they had spent the last few hours curled around one another. How quickly life could move from sated comfort to uncertainty. A litany of entreaties rushed through her mind, but she spoke none aloud.

I don't want you to go. I have a really bad feeling about this. You’re not even really recovered from getting shot, and I know you’re still a little shaky from what happened on 9/11. You’re not yourself. You’re not at your best. You're tired, I know you're tired. That's when you get hurt. Jesus, I don't want you to go.

"I'll probably be back tonight," Savard said, tucking a black polo shirt into jeans only a shade lighter. She picked up her holster from the dresser, automatically checked her weapon, and hooked it to her belt on her right hip. She reached for the FBI flak jacket that she'd left over the back of the chair when she'd selected the clothes from the closet. She pulled it on and swept her right hand beneath the garment to reach her gun, assuring herself that nothing impaired her draw. "If I'm delayed, I'll call."

"Okay." You’re not dressing for a meeting.

Savard turned and looked at Stark from across the room. "Sweetie, don't worry."

"I'm not. Just, you know, be careful."

"I can feel you worrying from over here." Savard crossed the room and gently placed both hands on Stark's shoulders, then bent low to look into her face. "I'll probably spend the entire day debriefing. You know how slowly things happen once the bosses get involved."

Stark nodded. "Well, in case anything...interesting happens, you'll...be fine."

"Paula," Savard said gently, settling into Stark's lap and wrapping both arms around her shoulders. "This is my job. Just like yours is to take care of Blair. I know what that means. I know when you walk out the door with her what that means. If I let myself think about it, it would eat me up."

"You're right," Stark mumbled, burying her face in the angle between Savard's neck and shoulder, embracing her. "I just love you."

"Mmm, and I love you." Savard eased her palm beneath Stark's chin and tilted her face up. She kissed her, taking her time, although she had very little to spare. She knew the commander was waiting for her, but she owed Paula this one moment. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that every goodbye could be the last, and she wanted to be certain to say everything that she felt in her heart. She let her mouth slide over Stark's, soft and warm, before she slipped her tongue inside for a final slow caress. "I'll call you later."

"Talk to you soon," Stark said, forcing a smile as she reluctantly let her go.

Blair and Diane reached the back porch just in time for Blair to hear Cam's final words.

"...want in on it. We've earned it Fine. Yes. Thank you." She closed the phone abruptly just as Blair reached her. "Hey." She kissed her. "I've only got a minute. Sorry."

"Who was that?" Blair asked.

Diane squeezed Blair's hand, "I'm going to go inside and take a shower."

Blair didn't answer, still studying Cam, as she repeated, "Who was that?"

"Stewart Carlisle," Cam said, naming her immediate superior.

"And he's going to do what? Make sure you get your shot at these guys?" Blair grasped the front of Cam's leather flight jacket and gave her a shake. "You promised me. You promised me that you'd stay out of this. Cameron, God damn it. You promised."

"I know. I meant it." Cam covered Blair's hands with hers, not resisting. "I do mean it. I said I'd stay in the back lines, and I will. I swear."

Blair yanked her forward and kissed her hard. She felt her lips bruise and knew Cam's would be sore too, but she didn't care. If she couldn't keep her from going, couldn't keep her from danger, she would make her feel what there was to lose if she put herself at risk. This love, this life they had made, that was what she wanted Cam to remember when she had to make a choice between her desire to see justice done and her own safety.

Cam let herself be taken, helpless before Blair's onslaught. She was breathless from the force of Blair's demanding mouth. She wasn't aware of being pushed until her back smacked up against the deck post and Blair pressed into her. She finally jerked her head away from the kiss, but she couldn't escape the havoc Blair's hands played on her body. "Jesus. I have to be able to think sometime today, baby. Give me a break."

"I want you to think," Blair muttered, her mouth on Cam's neck. "You think about me today, Cameron. You think about making me love you, about making me need you. And you get your ass back here in one piece."

"I never think of anyone but you," Cam said before she claimed her mouth with as much ferocity as Blair had taken hers. After another hungry moment, she pulled away. "I love you."

"Yeah, yeah." Resting her forehead on Cam's shoulder, Blair tenderly smoothed her hands over the front of Cam's leather jacket, then inside to gently caress her chest. "Like that's the answer to everything."

"Isn't if?" Cam smiled and kissed her forehead. "Be back soon, baby." Then she slipped from Blair's embrace and strode down the stairs and around the building, out of sight.

Blair leaned against the post, watching the sunrise over the ocean. It was so indescribable, so heartbreakingly beautiful. Like love. Before the moment was lost, she hurried inside, dropping her jacket on the floor along the way, and set a fresh canvas on the easel. Her gaze on the sunrise, her heart with Cam, she began to paint.

Savard heard the clump-clump-clump of rotors whirring before the black dot on the horizon became distinguishable as an MH-6 Little Bird—an Army Special Ops light assault helicopter. It was one of the smallest attack aircraft in the Army's arsenal, used primarily for insertion and extraction operations. Ordinarily, it carried six combat troops on its external platforms, but currently the ramps were unoccupied. She glanced at Cam. "Interesting form of transportation to a debriefing, Commander."

"There's been a slight change in plans," Cam said, her eyes on the descending aircraft. "It seems there is some degree of urgency since we have a breakdown in the integrity of our team and our intel may not be secure."

Breakdown in the integrity of our team. Savard played that phrase around in her mind. She deciphered it to mean that someone higher up knew that Valerie was gone, and that she had most likely informed the CIA not only of the location of the paramilitary camp but also of the evidence pointing to Matheson's terrorist link. Our intel may not be secure. And someone with a lot of pull was obviously worried that someone else would get to the party first. Her vote would be the Department of Defense. They could mobilize this kind of action pretty damn fast.

"It's rather unusual, isn't it," Savard said quietly, "to deploy the military against civilians? I would think it would fall to us in the FBI to take these guys down."

"Ordinarily it would be your people," Cam replied just as quietly. "But these aren't ordinary times. And after the kind of standoff that happened at Waco, with all the publicity that went with it, I expect even the White House is willing to bend the rules to get this done quickly, quietly, and efficiently."

"And...we're going along?" Savard couldn't quite keep the excitement out of her voice.

Cam smiled with grim satisfaction. "We are."

"Uh, if you don't mind me asking, how...?"

"I made some calls."

"Son of a bitch. I mean, thank you, Commander." Savard grinned. I'll just bet it was a few calls—probably starting with the chief of staff. Her eyes glinted with anticipation. Her whispered words were lost in the roar of the engine as the attack helicopter settled amidst a cloud of dust and debris. Here we come, you bastards.

Heads down, Savard and Cam ran across the tarmac as the door of the helicopter swung open. As soon as they climbed into the body, an Army officer in combat garb with lieutenant's bars on his shoulders crouched down in front of them. The helicopter began to ascend.

"Which one of you is Roberts?" he shouted, handing them headsets to muffle the motor and to allow them to speak to one another in flight.

"I am," Cam yelled back, situating the headgear and flicking the transmitter switch. She grabbed a strap that hung from the ceiling to steady herself and pointed to Savard. "Special Agent Savard, FBI."

The lieutenant nodded to both of them. "We'll refuel in Virginia and rendezvous with the other aircraft, then proceed directly to the target. We've been advised that you are to be considered embedded members of the team. You all will be in the strike zone."

"Understood," Cam replied.

"There're vests under the benches. Do you require assault rifles?"

"We're armed," Cam said. "We'll be fine, Lieutenant."

He studied her face for a moment, then nodded as if satisfied. "Enjoy the ride." Then he settled back on his heels, one hand curled around another hanging strap, closed his eyes, and appeared to go to sleep.

Savard glanced at Cam, raised her eyebrows, and grinned. She mouthed the words, Let's rock 'n roll.

Cam grinned and nodded back.

Blair stepped out onto the deck carrying two cups of coffee. She handed one to Stark.

"Thank you," Stark said, taking the mug. The sun was up, but the air was still chilled, and although it usually didn't bother her, this morning she was cold. She shivered inside her regulation-issue nylon jacket.

"Hell of a morning so far," Blair said.

"Yeah. How's Diane?"

"She's okay. She's willing to believe there's a good reason for what Valerie did, at least for now."

"I'm sure there's a reason," Stark grunted. "How good it is depends on whose team you play for."

"Well, she never really was part of this team."

"Maybe not officially, but we trusted her. Felicia's pretty steamed. They worked pretty close on this one."

"Do you know what's happening?"

"Not for sure. No."

"Would you tell me if you did?"

Stark met Blair's seeking gaze. "The reason that I think Commander Roberts has been so successful heading this detail is because she never kept you in the dark. Yes, I would tell you."

Blair smiled softly. "You don't think it's because I've fallen in love with her and will do anything she says?"

A second passed while Stark struggled to compose her features, but finally she surrendered and laughed. "Uh, no, that had never crossed my mind."

"Well, just so you don't think that I'm always so easy."

"I think there's nothing easy about the position you're in," Stark said seriously. "And the only thing I want to do is make it as uncomplicated for you as possible."

Blair leaned her hip against the railing, her expression contemplative as she considered Stark's uncomplicated honesty and essential goodness. "You know, I owe you an apology."

Stark looked confused. "I'm sorry?"

"For that night in Colorado."

"No, you don't," Stark said. "Everything that happened that night was mutual."

"You're not blushing. I don't even know how to interpret that."

"Let's just say I'm not embarrassed about something that will always be very special."

To her consternation, Blair found herself blushing. "Well. Thank you."

"Renee doesn't know."

Blair smiled. "And she never will unless you tell her."

"She doesn't seem to care about the past all that much."

"Smart woman."

"Yeah," Stark said with a sigh. She sipped her coffee and studied the empty beach. "I feel bad because sometimes I wish she weren't an FBI agent."

"That makes sense to me. I bet there's times she wishes you weren't a Secret Service agent, either."

Stark nodded. "She said something like that this morning."

"And I don't imagine either one of you is planning on retiring."

"No. Not likely." Stark straightened, shaking off the melancholy. They'd strayed far beyond the boundaries dictated by their professional relationship long ago, and although she welcomed the friendship, she also had a job to do. "So, we should discuss your agenda for the day."

"My agenda?" Blair grimaced. "Anything that will keep my mind off where the hell my lover is and what trouble she's getting herself into."

"I'm sure the commander will be fine," Stark said with absolute certainty. "Anyhow, they're probably spending the whole day meeting with one committee after another."

Blair narrowed her eyes. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

"I wouldn't," she admitted, "except I can't see anyone staging any kind of action so quickly. It takes too much planning, and there's going to be too many people who want to be in charge." Stark shook her head. "I'm sure they'll be meeting with the president's security advisers and maybe the head of the Intelligence committee. That's it."

"Dial the White House on your secure line," Blair said.

Stark blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I want to talk to Lucinda, and I know that no one is supposed to know where we are. So scramble it for me."

"Uh, that's probably not the best idea—"

Blair laughed. "This is where you get to be reminded what a pain in the ass it is being my security chief. Because I can call anyone I want to anytime, anyplace. So if you don't want me to use the phone in the living room—"

"Just one minute, Ms. Powell," Stark said formally, opening her phone. She rapidly punched a series of numbers and held it out to Blair. "There you go."

"Thank you," Blair said sweetly. As Stark started to walk down the steps, apparently to give her privacy, Blair added, "There's no need to go. This involves you too. Hello, Luce? It's Blair."

"Blair. Everything all right?"

"No problem. Well, unless you take into consideration that I'm in hiding because my lover doesn't trust anyone, including you."

"I think for the time being it's reasonable to allow Commander Roberts to make those decisions. The president has every confidence in her."

"Uh-huh. Everyone thinks she's superhuman. That's sort of why I'm calling. All this confidence everyone has in her. Where exactly is my lover?" She gripped the railing as she waited for the answer and heard only a faint buzz in the background.

"I'm afraid I don't have an answer on that at the moment. I can assure you, however—"

"Is it that you don't want to tell me or you can't tell me?"

"Both, and by now, you should know the reasons why."

Blair thought she heard a sigh, but she couldn't be certain, and it would certainly be out of character. Before she could demand more information, Lucinda spoke again.

"If you call me back in approximately two hours, I may have more to tell you. That's the best I can do, Blair."

Blair looked at her watch. "Don't go anywhere. I'll call back in exactly two hours." She hung up and looked at Stark, whose face was a study in barely suppressed anxiety. "I don't think they're in a meeting."

Chapter Thirty

The helicopter set down in a small unpaved landing zone in the middle of a forested area where three other Little Birds, fully equipped with combat troops, waited on the ground. A fuel truck bounced across the rutted field, and when the lieutenant jumped down to supervise the refueling, Cam reached beneath the narrow bench and extracted one of the protective vests. She tossed it to Savard and released another from its restraining clip for herself.

"We let the commandos sweep the front line. I imagine there are more men like the four who hit the Aerie in this camp. You weren't there that morning, but these guys are well trained and very well armed."

"You and your team handled them pretty well, Commander." Savard's eyes glittered with a dangerous combination of adrenaline and anger. "Without body armor."

"We were lucky." She didn't think there would ever come a day when she didn't see Foster with his service weapon leveled at Blair's chest. She pushed the image from her mind. She wanted justice. Even more, she wanted retribution. But not at a price that Blair would ultimately have to pay. "We're here to see that these men don't get away with treason and terrorism. We're here to see it, not do it."

"I'm going in with my weapon drawn." Savard's gaze lost focus as she remembered the very earth tremble beneath her feet as the Towers came down. "They'll never be able to pay enough for what they did, no matter how small a part they had in it."

"If you've got something to prove, Agent," Cam said quietly, "this isn't the place for it. We bring up the rear, once the area has been cleared. That's an order."

"Yes, ma'am," Savard said smartly.

A clean-shaven redhead of about forty clambered into the helicopter. "I'm Major Simons, in charge of this operation. We'll be airborne in five minutes."

Cam held out her hand. "Cameron Roberts, Secret Service." She indicated Savard. "Renee Savard, FBI."

"Agents," the major nodded. "Flight time is thirty-five minutes. We're working off satellite photographs, but we've got a pretty good picture of the layout. We're going to put down right outside their front gate. I would imagine there'll be sentries posted, if the vehicles we've been able to identify there are any indication of their organization. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was a U.S. Army installation."

"Weekends are when these guys like to play soldiers. There may be a full complement of personnel down there." Cam presumed the strike had been organized so quickly precisely because it was Saturday and Matheson and most of the officers were likely to be present. "Do you have any idea of the numbers?"

Simons shook his head. "A flyby is too risky, because this place is well away from any commercial or tourist routes. Any kind of aircraft would be suspicious. The latest satellite reconnaissance images suggest thirty to forty individuals."

Cam's head count of the troops on the Little Birds put their number at somewhere around twenty-four. Pretty good odds. "If he's there, we need their commanding officer alive."

The major's eyes were flat black disks, devoid of expression. "Then I guess he'd better not put up a fight."

"Do you have any idea where the command center is?"

"Nope. Except for the fact that there's only one main structure right in the center of the compound. That's probably the headquarters, with a lot of little buildings around the perimeter that are most likely sleeping quarters. I would imagine your man's going to be at the big house."

"Most likely." Cam regarded him steadily. She had a feeling that Matheson would not surrender easily, and that if given the opportunity, he would organize his troops for a firefight. If that happened, casualties could be high. She had no doubt that in the end, the special forces would prevail, but she didn't want to see U.S. troops killed, nor did she want to see Matheson die. He had information that was vital to future security. And as much as she might like to extract justice from him personally, she had a greater goal in mind. He had to be taken quickly in the first wave. "What's the chance you can put our bird right down on his front porch?"

Major Simons studied her, then flicked his gaze to Savard. "Why don't I ride with you two and we'll see what we can do about that." He crab-walked to the door and jumped down to the ground, turning to look back inside once he landed. "Let me brief the team leaders, and then I'll be back with the rest of our team."

"Commander," Savard said when Simons was out of earshot, "what happened to our rear-action orders?"

"I figure as long as we're standing behind him and his men, that's the rear." Cam watched the soldiers confer. "And our agenda is slightly different than theirs. I want Matheson alive so we can put him in a room—a very small room—so we can question him. I don't care how long it -takes, but he'll stay there until he breaks. I want to know who else we have to worry about in the future. Which of my people," she looked at Savard, "or your people, are like Foster—working beside us every day and just waiting for orders to move against us."

"I want to be in there with you," Savard said fiercely.

Simons walked toward them with three Delta Force commandos.

"Stay by my side when we land," Cam said.

"Yes, ma'am." Of one thing Savard was certain. She wasn't going to let anything happen to Cameron Roberts.

When Diane turned off the shower, she heard her cell phone ringing. She'd left it on the bathroom counter with her cosmetics bag. She stepped out, grasped a bath sheet in one hand, and picked up her phone with the other. She did not recognize the number and thought about letting it go to voicemail. On the final ring, something told her to answer, and she flipped it open. "Diane Bleeker."

"I'm on a pay phone. I only have a minute."

There was static on the line, but the connection was clear enough for her to hear the unmistakable sound of an airplane taking off. She tried to keep her voice steady as her entire body tingled. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. I wanted to say I'm sorry about this morning."

"Where are you?"

There was no immediate response, but Diane had the sense that she shouldn't speak her name. She waited, her stomach tight with anticipation.

"Dulles." There was the sound of a deep breath, then the hurried words, "Everything was set in motion long before I fell in love with you. The only way I could keep your name out of things was to follow the plan."

Diane tried not to be distracted by the phrase fell in love with you, but the wild beating of her heart made it difficult for her to think. "Where are you going?"

"I can't tell you."

"What do you mean, 'keep me out of things'?" Diane felt the pressure of the seconds ticking away and desperately wanted to understand.

"Who we're personally involved with—it's a matter of security. They'll watch you, Diane. Your privacy will be gone. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"Then tell me why you did it."

Her voice came through the line muffled, as if by unshed tears. "I couldn't help it. I needed you. I need you."

Diane closed her eyes. She felt their bodies soar together, their breath mingling, their souls surrendering as one. "Then I'm here."

"Do you understand what that means?"

"I do. I don't care."

"I have to go." A beat. Two. "I love you so very much."

The line went silent, but the words echoed in her heart. I love you too.

From the air, the access road through the dense green forest looked like a snake slithering through the grass. If she hadn't known it was there, Cam didn't think she would have recognized it for what it was—a single-track dirt road leading five miles into an unpopulated and undeveloped region of the Appalachians that bordered Virginia and Tennessee. As they descended, she focused the binoculars Major Simons had provided her on a tiny patch of tan that stood out amidst the confluence of green. After a few seconds, she nudged Simons's shoulder and pointed, mouthing the words, Fire tower.

He followed her direction and nodded. Then he climbed forward, pointed to the pilot, and spoke into his throat mike. The helicopters veered north to circle around what might be a lookout post. Cam doubted it would make much difference, but minimizing advance notice could only help. She glanced across the aisle to Savard, who looked composed, almost meditative. She almost would have preferred that Savard look a little jumpy. Sun Tzu said that the greatest warriors did not fear death and, therefore, did not hesitate in battle. On this particular day, Cam wanted a little bit of hesitation on Savard's part. If she got hurt, Stark would have a hard time handling it. So would she. She'd just have to see that nothing happened to Savard.

Felicia walked out onto the deck. "Do we know anything yet?"

"Holding pattern," Stark said. She nodded toward Blair. "But it's possible that Ms. Powell may have something for us in an hour or so."

Felicia raised an eyebrow.

"I spoke with Lucinda Washburn not long ago," Blair explained. "She promised to give me an update, but you know how information is handled at that level. It may or may not be the whole story." She shrugged. "Usually, Lucinda tells it to me straight. I could call my father, but..." She considered what Cam had told her earlier about the layers of protection around her father when these kinds of operations were underway. Her lover was willing to risk her life for concepts as hard to define as honor and patriotism. Blair was not willing to compromise those ideals by asking her father for the details. He might very well tell her, because he loved her, and that was something that she could not ask him to do. He was more than her father. He was the president of the United States. Sometimes, she didn't want to think about that, because it frightened her that there were people who wished him harm. It also overwhelmed her when she considered the magnitude of his importance to the world. He was the man who had held out his arms to catch her when she took her first steps, lest she fall. He was the man who had swung her up to his shoulders to watch the Fourth of July parades when she was too small to see through the crowds. He was the man whose opinion mattered to her more than any person's in the world, except Cam's. But despite all of that, he was also the man whose responsibilities set him apart from everyone else, even her. She shrugged again and tossed the dregs of her coffee over the railing. "Maybe Cam or Savard will call soon and fill us in."

She turned and strode into the house.

Felicia watched her go and as the door swung shut, looked back to Stark. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Everybody's on edge, that's all." She hunched her shoulders against a sudden gust of wind and studied the sky. "I think it's gonna rain again."

"Maybe. The weather's really hinky out here in the middle of the ocean." She squeezed Stark's shoulder. "Why don't you go on in. I'll stand watch out here for a while. I've been cooped up in that damn building for days staring at the monitor—I can handle a little fresh air."

"What do you think is going on with Valerie?"

"Ah, God. I think the CIA wanted to know what we found before anyone else." She buttoned the top button of her navy wool pea jacket as the wind picked up. "She helped break the case open for us. We'd have arrived at the same place eventually, but she helped get us there sooner."

"I was thinking the same thing," Stark admitted reluctantly. "You know, sometimes we don't have a lot of choices."

"I have a feeling no one really knows what's happening minute to minute these days in terms of our security network," Felicia said, her expression uneasy. "I'm glad we're here and that Egret is out of things for a while. They're keeping the vice president under wraps somewhere too. Probably smart. I'm glad I'm not on the president's detail."

Paula snorted. "Yeah. They probably want to keep him in the underground bunker, and knowing President Powell, he's not going to go for that."

"No. That's why I can't be too angry with Valerie. Every day we get closer to these guys, we cut the risk of something really bad happening again."

"So maybe it all evens out in the end?"

Felicia wrapped her arms around her body, wishing, not for the first time, that Mac were with them. "I hope so."

The four helicopters descended in a ring toward the compound. As the layout of the camp became more distinct, Cam noted that the trees had been clear-cut for a hundred yards around the fenced perimeter and the ground bulldozed flat. There appeared to be guard posts on either side of the main entrance, which was barricaded by a double swinging gate. A ground approach, even if they'd had armored jeeps, would have been ill-advised because of the absence of cover. As it was, the helicopters would have to deliver the troops right into the heart of the compound.

Simons's voice came through the powerful loudspeaker in their helicopter. "This is the United States Army. All personnel in the compound, assemble on the parade grounds. This is the United States Army. Surrender your weapons and assemble on the parade grounds. This is the United States..."

As the message repeated, Cam quickly scanned the open area between the main building and several smaller ones that probably served as the training grounds. At least a dozen men in fatigues hurried from the buildings. The helicopter to the right of hers, which she could see through the open door, zigzagged sharply away. Through her earphones she heard Simons shout, "The idiots are firing on us. Take us down! Take us down!"

The helicopter dropped precipitously, and Cam was thrown back against the inside wall. Across from her, Savard appeared eerily calm.

"All troops, prepare to jump," Simons commanded. "I want these birds back up in the air as soon as we hit the ground."

Cam drew her weapon and glanced at Savard once more before getting in line behind the two Delta commandos who crouched in the open doorway, waiting to drop the last ten feet into the hot zone.

Chapter Thirty-One

Cam was grateful for the enormous clouds of dust that the helicopters lacked up from the hard-packed earth of the parade grounds. At least the impromptu sandstorm afforded them a few seconds of cover as they prepared to drop into the fire zone. She put her hand on Savard's back and leaned close to her. "Go first. I'll provide covering fire. Take cover anywhere you can, but try to follow the front men."

"No," Savard shouted back. "You won't have anyone at your back."

"Do it," Cam said as she saw the second soldier drop from view. She pushed Savard forward. "Go, go!"

The helicopter bounced from side to side as if buffeted by a high wind, hovering as close to the ground as possible. As soon as Savard's head disappeared from sight, Cam jumped after her, mentally repeating, drop and roll, drop and roll. She landed with a bone-rattling, teeth-jarring thud and let her legs go soft, pitching forward into a shoulder roll and coming up in a crouch with her weapon extended. Overhead, the steady pinging of bullets impacting on the ascending helicopters sounded like hail on a tin roof. Her eyes were filled with grit and her vision hazy, but she could see well enough to make out that Savard was down and unmoving eight feet away. The only thought in her mind was to get her to cover as she threw herself flat on the ground and started to crawl, ignoring the small puffs of dirt that signaled bullets striking the ground nearby.

Blair walked into the living room, surprised to see Diane curled up in one corner of the sofa with a glass of wine in her hand. "Isn't it still morning, or did I miss something?"

Smiling wanly, Diane shook her head. "No. You're right. But if I drink another cup of coffee, I'm likely to have a meltdown. And frankly, I've been keeping such odd hours for the last week or so, my internal clock is totally disrupted. It feels like seven at night."

"Actually," Blair said as she threw herself down on the sofa beside Diane, "I might join you if we don't hear something pretty soon."

"You don't have any idea what's going on?"

"No. But I'm willing to bet that once they have the names of these guys, which they do now, they're not going to wait around to go after them. And I'm willing to bet there's a reason that Cam took Savard, and not Felicia or Stark, to this so-called briefing. Savard's FBI. She's trained in armed apprehension. So is Cam, because she was originally part of the investigative division of the Secret Service. But Stark and Davis have always done protection, and there's a difference. They're not as used to making arrests."

Diane reached over and took Blair's hand. "She's going to be fine. Even if they're involved in something risky, they're not alone. Your father and Lucy aren't going to let Cam do anything really dangerous. They know what she means to you."

"You are speaking about Cameron Roberts, my lover, right?" Blair said. "The one who believes that sacrifice is the greatest form of love?"

"Is she any different than you as far as that goes?" Diane spoke gently, but the look in her eyes said that she knew Blair would give up anything to keep Cam safe too.

"It's not the same." Blair turned away from Diane's appraising stare, blinking back the tears that were as much a result of frustration as fear. She sighed. "But her behavior is not a news flash. I should be used to it by now."

"No, not used to it. You'll never be used to it, I suppose, as long as she does what she does." Diane gave Blair's hand a shake. "But perhaps you'll begin to believe that she's coming back, because she always does."

Blair nodded. "I know. And I know that's the only thing I should really be thinking about."

"Good. So practice."

"I'll try." Blair leaned her head back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling, toying with Diane's fingers. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm all right."

Blair turned her head, hearing a calmness in Diane's voice that hadn't been there when they'd walked on the beach. She searched her friend's face. "My God," she breathed, "she called, didn't she?"

Diane said nothing.

"Are you afraid to tell me because you think I'll do something to endanger her?" Blair sat up straight. "Diane?"

"Some people here are very angry at her."

"Cam defended her this morning," Blair said. "Even though she was angry, she said she understood her. She said that sometimes they don't get to choose what they do."

"They do choose, though, don't they," Diane said quietly. "They choose to follow orders, because they believe that what they're doing is right or important or.. .necessary."

"You've really gotten a crash course in the trials and tribulations of being in love with a spooky, haven't you?" Blair said gently.

Diane laughed, a tremor in her voice. "Oh, I certainly have. No wonder you resisted Cam as long as you did."

"Yeah," Blair laughed, "for all of about two seconds."

"We're a great pair, aren't we?"

Blair slid her arm around Diane's shoulders. "I would never do anything to hurt you. Is she all right?"

"I don't know. I think so. We only...we only spoke for a moment."

"So you don't know anything?"

Diane shook her head. "Not a thing. I don't think she's in Washington anymore, though. So if there's something going on with Cam and Renee right now, she's not a part of it."

"No, probably not right now. But there was some reason that she left the way she did, and I expect there's going to be hard feelings about that for a while with quite a few people."

"What about us? Is it going to come between us?"

Blair reached for Diane's other hand. "Not if we don't let it. Let's agree right now that sometimes our lovers might not see eye to eye. That will be between them. Not us. Okay?"

"Okay."

"You do know what you're getting into, don't you? Because it's probably going to be a very bumpy ride."

"After this morning, I think I've got a pretty good idea just how rough it's going to be." Diane smiled softly. "But when I thought she was gone, really gone, it was as if something inside of me had broken, and I knew I would never be able to fix it. And then the second I heard her voice, everything felt right again."

"Well. That's your answer, then, isn't it?" "It seems to be. Does it ever begin to make sense?" "Once in a while," Blair said, "when you feel her next to you, and you know that that's the only thing in the world that truly matters."

"Savard," Cam shouted. "You hit?"

Savard turned her head in Cam's direction, spitting dirt from her mouth. Her face was pale and contorted with pain. "Twisted my knee when I landed. Tore something, I think."

"Can you move?" Cam took in the crimson stain on Savard's leg and the ragged tear in her pants. Bullet wound. Somewhere nearby, men shouted and the intermittent bursts of automatic weapons fire continued. "We need to get out of here," Cam said urgently. "Just crawl."

"Don't think.. .I can. You go."

"Forget it, Agent. Get moving." Cam gripped the back of Savard's jacket in her fist and pulled, inching forward on her elbows, keeping her belly and hips on the ground. She jerked Savard with her. "Push with your good leg and use your elbow for leverage. Come on. It's only thirty feet or so to the building."

"Commander, I..."

"Move"

"Yes, ma'am."

Together, they maneuvered across the open ground. At one point, Cam saw a figure in faded green camos race around the side of the building, a rifle in his hands. She sighted on his chest, waiting to pull the trigger if he trained his weapon on them. But before she needed to fire, he pitched forward, his rifle flying from his hands. He writhed on the ground, a red patch spreading rapidly high on his back. He'd taken a round in the shoulder. The Delta Forces aren’t shooting to kill, at least not unless they have to.

"The stairs are just ahead," Cam yelled. "Get up on one knee and put your arm around me. We're going inside."

Cam wrapped her left arm around Savard's waist, her weapon in her right hand. Savard pushed up with her uninjured left leg, and the two of them clambered up the stairs and through the door. The room was empty except for several chairs turned over on the floor and a desk that sat in front of a doorway centered in the far wall.

"You're bleeding," Cam said, easing Savard down to the floor by the side of the desk. She guided Savard's hand to the wound. "Press on this and keep your eye on the front door. Use the desk for cover if you need to. I'll check the back."

Assured that Savard was as safe as she could be, Cam ran quickly to the rear wall and put her back against it. Then, with her weapon arm cocked up by her head, she inched toward the open doorway. She suspected that Matheson's office was on the other side, since this was the building they had presumed was the command center. She hadn't seen anyone come out the front door, unless he'd been one of the first men to rush onto the parade ground as they'd landed. If he was, hopefully he'd been captured already. He might have escaped through a back door, or he could have gone out a window. She hoped that he was still inside, destroying paperwork or just waiting, foolish enough to make a stand.

She took one quick glance behind her and couldn't see Savard. She had probably moved behind the desk. Good. With a quick intake of breath, Cam swung into the doorway, keeping low, hoping to make as small a target as possible. A quick glance left, then right. There was one man in the room, standing behind the desk and looking straight into her eyes, as if he'd indeed been waiting. Cam held his gaze, but her mind was flooded with images. It was surprising the details that one noticed between one heartbeat and the next.

A maroon desk blotter was perfectly lined up in the precise center of the desk. A gold ring with a blue sapphire stone, a class ring of some kind, adorned his right hand. His clean-shaven, tanned face was expressionless save for a small smile on his thin lips, registering neither anger nor panic. That was odd, considering that a chain of rectangular explosive packs were laid out in front of him.

Cam couldn't tell for certain, but if those were C4 charges, she judged there was enough there to blow up a great deal of the surrounding compound, and everyone in it. From what she could see of the coils leading from the pale pink squares, he had not yet set the timer. When he snatched up what appeared to be the ignition switch and dove to the floor behind the desk, she had no time to think about anything, not even Blair. She catapulted out of her crouch, over the desk, and on top of him, grappling for his hand. He elbowed her in the throat, and she gagged, spots dancing before her eyes as she forced his wrist back, trying to dislocate it. He elbowed her in the neck again, and she felt herself losing consciousness. Just as she slipped away, she heard an explosion.

Everyone in the room abruptly stopped talking when Stark's phone rang twenty minutes before Blair was due to call Lucinda Washburn.

"Stark," she said. Her gaze flicked once to Blair as she listened, and she squared her shoulders. "Yes, ma'am, I understand. Forty minutes. Yes, ma'am, we'll be there. Yes, ma'am, ready to receive." She closed her phone and cleared her throat. "That was the chief of staff. They're sending a military escort to pick us up. I should be getting the coordinates by satellite relay right now. Ms. Powell, if you could get ready to leave immediately."

"Did Lucinda give you Cam's status?" Blair asked, her voice surprisingly steady, because she'd stopped breathing with the first ring. Cam would have called her had she been able to. This could only mean one thing. She was hurt. God, please let that be all.

"No, ma'am," Stark said hoarsely. "Just that they're airlifting casualties to McDonald Army Hospital in Virginia."

Blair swayed for just an instant before she took a deep breath and steeled herself. "Then we should go."

Chapter Thirty-Two

A military jet awaited them at the rendezvous point. Hara and Wozinski fell in behind Stark and Blair as they raced across the tarmac to the aircraft. A Marine lieutenant waited at the bottom of the staircase and followed silently behind them as they climbed rapidly aboard. The jet seated ten and had none of the trappings of their usual transportation. Blair made her way to the rear seats and slid into one, reaching automatically for the seat belt. Stark walked slowly up and down the aisle, inspecting the interior, as the jet taxied down the runway.

"Is there anything you need, Ms. Powell?" Stark asked quietly as she slowed by Blair's side on her first pass through the plane.

"No, thank you." Blair was grateful that Paula moved on. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to think. She just wanted to be wherever Cam was. She'd tried Lucinda on the scrambled line, but got no answer. The significance of that was uncertain, but she suspected that her father's chief of staff was busy handling the aftermath of whatever had happened to result in casualties. Casualties. The very word made her feel ill. She leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and concentrated on clearing her mind of all thought. She focused on her breathing, letting the sensation and sound of the air flowing in and out of her body expand until she was aware of nothing else. Her heart rate slowed and her muscles relaxed as she prepared herself for the challenge that awaited her.

Stark crouched down in the aisle next to where Hara and Wozinski sat. She spoke quietly so the Marine would not hear her. "When we land, assume that no one is a friendly. That means medical and military personnel too. No one is alone with her except the commander."

The other agents nodded solemnly, neither voicing the question that was foremost in their minds, both wondering if the commander would be waiting for them at the end of their journey.

"Good." Stark stood and took a seat midway down the fuselage between Blair and the cabin door. She sat straight, staring directly ahead, with a death grip on the armrests. She mentally reviewed the things she would need to do as soon as the plane landed. She considered the positioning of the other agents around Egret and the fact that they would be understaffed for what had to be considered a significant security risk. She steadfastly did not think about Renee. She couldn't, because every time she did, a bubble of panic rose into her chest and threatened to choke her. And there was no room for it, no time for it, no opportunity for her to feel anything about anyone except Blair Powell.

So she didn't.

Mercifully, the jet landed at an Army base adjoining the hospital, and a jeep sat idling by the runway, waiting for them. Within ten minutes of touchdown, they were escorted through a rear entrance to McDonald Army Hospital. A muscular, dark-haired, olive-skinned man in his fifties, dressed in scrubs, met them just inside the doors. Incongruously, he glanced at Stark, who walked by Blair's side, and saluted smartly.

"I'm Captain Olivieri, the chief of surgery. If you'll come this way, please." He turned smartly on his heel and strode off.

"Captain," Blair said as she hurried with him, Stark on her opposite side, "we have several of our people who might be injured. Commander Roberts, Special Agent—"

"Yes, ma'am. I was instructed to bring you directly to the treatment room."

"If you could just..."

He pushed aside a curtain that enclosed the last treatment room at one end of a hallway filled with emergency equipment, suture carts, defibrillators, and other medical paraphernalia. "Ma'am."

Blair glanced inside and for one brief instant, everything receded from her consciousness but Cam. "Oh God."

Cam sat propped up on a treatment table, a pillow behind her back and an ice pack on her neck. An angry bruise on her right cheek extended to her lower lid, which was partially closed. Her eyes, however, were blessedly clear, and as soon as she saw Blair, she smiled. Blair smiled back, her heart lifting.

"Hey," Blair said softly as she started forward.

Cam looked past Blair to where Stark stood in the doorway. She tried to speak, but no sound came out.

Captain Olivieri said curtly, "No talking. That was our arrangement. If you try, I'll slap you in the ICU and put a tube down your throat."

Blair saw the oxygen mask sitting by Cam's right hand and realized that Cam must have taken it off. She looked anxiously at the surgeon. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Against doctor's orders, Cam forced out a barely recognizable word. "Star..." Her face contorted with pain and she leaned her head back, closing her eyes as if the effort had exhausted her.

Instantly, Blair reached for the oxygen mask and put it over Cam's lower face. "I take it she's supposed to be wearing this," she said over her shoulder. Her voice was steady but her hands were shaking.

"It's humidified oxygen," the surgeon explained. "She has significant tracheal edema from the blunt injury, and-—" He stopped as Cam suddenly sat forward and pulled the oxygen mask off.

Blair narrowed her eyes and followed Cam's hand as she pointed vehemently at Stark once again. Nodding, Blair said, "Captain, do you have any information on Special Agent Renee Savard?"

"Savard?" Olivieri looked confused. "Yes. She's in surgery."

"How is she?" Blair asked quickly, watching the color drain from Stark's face.

"She should be out anytime now. They're just doing a washout of the wound—"

"How about giving us a quick rundown of her injuries, Captain," Blair interrupted when Cam stiffened and made another abortive attempt at speaking. Blair squeezed her shoulder. "Stop it."

"She has a nonthreatening GSW to the left lower extremity. X-rays reveal no evidence of bony injury, but the orthopedic surgeons wanted to irrigate the wound and make sure the lateral collateral ligament had not been damaged. She should be fine."

"Thank you, Captain." Blair smiled at Stark. "If you want to find out where they'll be taking her, Paula, go ahead."

Stark clasped her hands behind her back and locked her knees, trying to appear steadier than she felt. She swallowed once and then said clearly, "Thank you, Ms. Powell. I'll be right outside in the hall here." With that, she stepped back several feet and closed the curtain, giving Cam and Blair privacy. There was no way she could leave. It wasn't even a consideration, and she knew that Renee would understand. Renee was going to be all right, and knowing that gave her all the strength she needed to be patient. She leaned against the wall where she could see the hall in both directions and took a few gulps of much-needed air.

"Now," Blair said to Captain Olivieri. "Tell me about Agent Roberts."

"She has a badly contused trachea and a fracture of the arytenoid... uh, that's one of the cartilages forming the vocal cords. She shouldn't speak, and by rights, she should be in the ICU on a monitor, because if the swelling increases—" He frowned when Cam made a hand motion, waving him to silence.

Blair turned her back to the surgeon and put her face very close to Cam's. "You listen to me. I want to know. And I don't want to hear anything coming from you. Not a single sound." Then, very gently, she kissed her on the mouth. Keeping her arm tightly around Cam, she looked back at the surgeon. "Go ahead."

"Ah—well, that's it really. Vocal rest, a three-week course of steroids, and a laryngoscopy in ten days to check for healing. I recommended twenty-four hours in-house observation, but—"

"I think if you give me explicit instructions, I can see that Agent Roberts is appropriately observed. Several of my security team are EMTs."

He looked sheepish. "Yes, ma'am." He backed up. "I'll see that those are typed up for you."

"Thank you."

Once they were alone, Blair pressed her palm to Cam's cheek. "Does it hurt, darling?"

Cam shrugged.

"The truth."

Cam grinned weakly and nodded.

"On a scale of one to ten?"

Cam held up both hands, eight digits extended.

"Oh, then, that's not so bad." Blair rested her forehead against Cam's and closed her eyes. "I love you. I can't take too many more of these scares."

Cam wrapped her arms around Blair's waist and pulled her as close as she could, sliding one hand beneath Blair's hair to caress the back of her neck.

"I know. It's a million to one chance that it will ever happen again." Blair snuggled against Cam's chest, wanting nothing except to be in her arms. "Don't ever play poker for money, darling."

Diane was waiting for Blair when she came out of the bedroom after situating Cam for the night. "Well? What the hell happened? Where is Stark?"

"We left her in Virginia for the time being. Renee is going to be in the hospital for a couple of days so they can make sure her leg is okay. Paula wanted to come back with us, but I wouldn't let her."

"Is Renee going to be all right?"

"Yes. The surgeon said nothing vital was injured, and her recovery should be pretty fast."

"Thank God." Diane took Blair's hand and led her into the kitchen. "Sit. I bet you haven't had anything to eat all day, have you?"

Blair sagged into the chair without protest and brushed her hair back with trembling hands. "God, what a nightmare this day has been. I don't think I can eat."

"Well, you're going to. Scrambled eggs with cheese and toast. Comfort food, and it will get some protein into you." As she removed items from the refrigerator, she asked, "Do you know what happened?"

"Cam can't tell me, and none of the medical personnel seem to know. I'll call Lucinda tomorrow," Blair said. "But right now, I really don't care."

Diane put the bowl of eggs aside and went to Blair. She leaned down and hugged her. "Neither do I. At least they're all in one piece."

Blair laughed unsteadily and rested her cheek against Diane's body, welcoming the comfort. "More or less."

"I don't suppose you heard anything about Valerie," Diane said softly.

Blair shook her head. "I don't know anything, sweetie. As soon as I do, I promise I'll let you know."

Diane kissed Blair's forehead. "Thanks."

"I did some thinking on the trip back here," Blair said. "I'm going to talk to Tanner about buying this place. I think it will be good for us to get away somewhere truly safe. Tanner should be able to arrange the sale so that no one can trace us, at least not without a lot of trouble. I'm not even going to tell my father where we are when we come here."

"I think that's a great idea. As long as that guesthouse has my name on it."

Blair smiled. "Definitely."

"Perfect. Now, about those eggs..."

To Blair's surprise, she discovered she was hungry, and after finishing the quick meal, she made her excuses and returned to the bedroom. She'd left the bedside light on, turned down low, and she could see from the doorway that Cam's eyes were closed. As quietly as she could, she started toward the bathroom, but stopped when Cam opened her eyes. She changed direction and settled onto the side of the bed, leaning forward with her arm on the other side of Cam's body. "Hey. You're supposed to be trying to sleep."

Cam patted the bed beside her.

"You want company?"

Cam nodded and grinned, stronger this time. She drew one finger along the strong line of Blair's jaw, then brushed her thumb over Blair's mouth. Blair smiled.

"Commander, don't even think about it." She stood, shed her clothes, and slid beneath the sheets. Gently, she eased an arm behind Cam's back. "Can you lean with your head on my shoulder without hurting your neck?"

Carefully, Cam shifted onto her side and settled against the curve of Blair's body. With a sigh, she closed her eyes. Blair held her, wide awake. She didn't want to sleep, she wanted to—needed to—feel Cam beside her. She thought of her conversation with Diane.

"Does it ever begin to make sense? "

"Once in a while, when you feel her next to you, and you know that that's the only thing in the world that truly matters."

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 801