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Chapter Twenty-Three 1 page

With the nation on the verge of war, security takes on new meaning for Secret Service Agent Cameron Roberts, whose lover just happens to be the President’s daughter.

First daughter Blair Powell and her “secret” Secret Service agent lover, Cameron Roberts, intend to get married—with her father’s blessing. But being in the spotlight isn’t the safest place to be in a country still reeling from 9/11 and with the domestic terrorists who tried to assassinate Blair still at large. Cam doesn’t want to give up the reins of control when Blair’s life is at stake, but there are other dangers at home and abroad that the President needs her to investigate—including the whereabouts of her previous lover—Valerie Ross.

Chapter One

Monday, October 8

Blair Powell walked along the ocean’s edge just after dawn, watching the sky segue through a palette of colors she had yet to capture on canvas. Thankfully, she wasn’t a landscape artist, because she feared she would be doomed to an eternity of frustration and disappointment. Her life held more than enough challenge as it was, especially now, less than a month after the terrorist attacks on New York City and Washington, DC. Less than a month after four men she’d never met had tried to kill her.

Sliding her hands into the pockets of her dark navy windbreaker, Blair sheltered in the shadow of a tall, windswept dune and let the cold sea breeze and the force of nature’s power drive the lingering melancholy away. Crisp, salty air filled her chest, and for an instant, she felt only the promise of a new season and the inner contentment of being in love. Despite the horror of the last month, she’d just spent one of the best weeks she could remember in seclusion on Whitley Island. At least two Secret Service agents followed her everywhere she went on the remote, sparsely populated island off the coast of Massachusetts, but she was out of the public eye and nearly alone with her lover. She cherished this rare privacy and feared that pleasure was about to change.

As much as she loved the island, she couldn’t just disappear. And after the events of the last few weeks, she discovered to her surprise that she didn’t want to. All her life she’d sought anonymity. Being her father’s daughter had forced upon her a notoriety she had not chosen, and she had done all she could to escape the constraints it imposed. Yet sometime in the last year, that wild, furious need to break away had all but vanished. She wondered how much that sea change was due to the woman who walked toward her in the gathering sunlight.

Secret Service agent Cameron Roberts, Blair’s one time chief of security and now her lover, was a few inches taller, dark-haired, lean and handsome. Her jaw was a little broader, her nose a little stronger, and the hollows below her cheekbones a little deeper than the dictates of classic beauty demanded, but what Blair saw when she looked at her went beyond beauty. She saw strength and passion, and above all, honor.



“You’re supposed to be in bed,” she chided as Cam approached. Recovering.

Cam grinned. “Bed was cold.”

“It’s a hell of a lot colder out here.” Blair wrapped her arms around Cam’s neck and kissed her, ruffling the short, almost wavy black hair that ended just above her collar. The almost casual brush of mouth on mouth turned unexpectedly more fervent. She stroked her tongue along the inside of Cam’s lip, and delved deeper for an instant before leaning back. “Whew. Just got warmer.”

“Let’s see if we can get it up to August.” Cam slid one arm around Blair’s waist and underneath her jacket. She stroked Blair’s back and nuzzled her neck. “Although, we probably shouldn’t tamper with Greg and Hara’s body temperatures quite so much.”

Blair jerked and pushed away. “God, I can’t believe I forgot about them. I never forget about them.” She peered over her shoulder toward the dunes where two of her first team security agents stood with their hands at their sides, facing out toward the ocean as if she and Cam were not there. Of course, they had seen everything while continuously scanning the length of beach, the water, and the air.

“I’d say that little lapse is a very good sign.” Cam brushed a strand of damp blond hair away from Blair’s cheek and resisted the urge to kiss her again. Blair’s deep blue eyes were shadow free, a rare occurrence, and even though she’d been up before dawn, she’d slept through the night. That, too, was unusual since the armed assault on Blair in her penthouse apartment. Cam loved to see Blair so relaxed and secure that she forgot she was being watched. She wished she could keep that from ever changing.

“When your eyes go from gray to black like that,” Blair murmured, “I know you’re thinking serious thoughts.”

Cam shook her head. “No.” She tugged Blair against her side and started to walk, keeping her arm around Blair’s waist. “Just thinking I love you.”

“That sounds serious.” Blair slipped her hand into the back pocket of Cam’s jeans and squeezed her ass. “In fact, we should probably do something about it ASAP.”

“Okay.”

Blair laughed. “You’re too easy.”

“I thought you liked me that way.”

Blair caught Cam’s hands and turned to walk backwards, swinging their joined arms lazily between them. The wind whipped her hair around her face, and her cheeks burned with the cold. She felt wonderful. “I like you every way you come, Commander. Hard and fast, slow and easy. Any way at all.”

“Jesus, Blair. Have a heart.” Cam tilted her head in the direction of the agents who followed along the invisible perimeter of their protection zone. “They can’t hear us, but they’ll have a hard time pretending not to notice if I throw you down on the beach.”

“I thought you had better control than that,” Blair teased.

“So did I,” Cam muttered darkly. Everything she’d thought she’d known about herself had abruptly changed slightly less than a year before when she’d been assigned to protect the first daughter of the United States. Cam had fallen in love with her the first instant she’d seen her, her blond hair damp from the shower, her sapphire eyes sparking with anger, her sensual body blatantly seductive. Blair hadn’t wanted protection, and she’d done everything she possibly could to avoid the constraints of twenty-four hour a day observation. She’d been wild and willful, a beautiful feral creature who defied taming. Cam had fought her desire, but ultimately, she had surrendered to her heart. “You changed all that.”

“Funny,” Blair said, returning to Cam’s side and snuggling against her again. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.” Blair kissed the edge of Cam’s jaw. “Your throat sounds better. Does it still hurt?”

“No,” Cam said quickly. Her voice still became hoarse when she talked for more than a few minutes, and swallowing was an exercise in masochism. But she didn’t want to remind Blair of the injuries she’d sustained during an armed confrontation that she’d promised she wouldn’t take part in.

Abruptly, Blair stopped walking and stepped slightly away. “Why do we constantly have to cover old ground? You know I can always tell when you’re trying to protect me from something.”

Cam winced. “Sorry. You’re right. I need more practice at disclosure.”

“Apparently.” Blair sighed. “I suppose we both do. It’s just that the very things I love about you make me crazy, too.”

“Ditto.” Cam laughed and then started to cough. It hurt, and she couldn’t hide it. The finger marks on her throat had faded, but the bruising inside persisted. “Damn. The cold air is getting to me.”

“I told you not to come out here,” Blair snapped. “Damn it, Cameron.” She hated it when Cam hurt. She hated feeling helpless under any circumstances, but it was worse when it was Cam and she couldn’t do anything. She picked up her pace. “Let’s get you inside. I’ll make some tea or something.”

“Tea?” Cam rasped, trying desperately not to laugh again.

Blair’s glower could not hide her smile. “Well, something.”

They climbed through the dunes toward the multi-level glass and wood house where they’d been staying for the past few weeks, the two Secret Service agents keeping pace behind them. Blair stiffened at the sight of a woman hurrying down to meet them.

“Hi, Paula,” she greeted her new chief of security. Paula Stark was an athletic, dark haired, dark-eyed woman close to her own age. She had proven herself capable of protecting Blair in dire circumstances more than once, and Blair trusted her. More than that, she cared for her. That kind of affection probably wasn’t wise; she was not supposed to form personal attachments to her security agents. But Blair never did anything simply because it was prudent. She spent more time with the four members of her first team than she did with anyone else in her life, and she couldn’t help but care about them. Just the same, she preferred not to see Paula right now. It could only mean one thing. Her brief respite had come to an end. “What’s up?”

“Your father wants to talk to you.” Paula nodded to Cam. “Commander.”

“Chief,” Cam said. Technically, she wasn’t the commander anymore, since she’d been replaced as Blair’s chief of security by

Stark, but she couldn’t seem to get any of the agents to stop calling her that. She wanted to ask if there was a problem, but she was trying to be respectful of Stark’s new position. Security chiefs were circumspect by nature and rarely shared any more information than necessary with anyone, including the protectees and their families. Especially with the protectees and their families. Part of a security agent’s job was to make the lives of those they guarded seem as normal as possible under the most abnormal of circumstances.

“Is my father all right?” Blair asked as they reached the rear deck of the house.

“I have no reason to think otherwise,” Stark said in her official voice. “Lucinda Washburn put the call through. She said there was no urgency, but the president would like to speak to you at your earliest convenience.”

Blair rolled her eyes. At your earliest convenience was Lucinda-speak for call immediately. Lucinda Washburn was President Andrew Powell’s chief of staff, as well as his lifelong friend and adviser. No one was closer to him, not even Blair. Lucinda had helped him win the governorship of Massachusetts, the vice presidency, and finally the presidency. She was an astute politician and managed far more than the day-to-day workings of the White House staff. If someone wanted the ear of the president, they needed to court Lucinda Washburn first.

“Lucinda wants something.” Blair glanced at Cam, who smiled ruefully. Lucinda did not make social calls. She also was not the president’s secretary, which meant that she probably had an agenda of her own. “Give me a few minutes to have a cup of coffee, Paula, and then I’ll call her back.”

“I’ll be in the command center.” Paula kept her voice neutral and her face expressionless. The makeshift command center was actually part of the first floor of the smaller guest house that sat partway between the main house and the beach. Her scaled-down security team stayed there when they were off shift. Right now there were only three other agents with her—Greg Wozinski, Patrice Hara, and Felicia Davis. There was also one other inhabitant, her FBI agent lover Renée Savard, who was recuperating from a bullet wound. She and Cam had sustained their injuries during the same action. “Please call me when you’re ready, and I’ll scramble a line for you.”

Blair halted with her hand on the handle of the back door and regarded Paula quizzically. “Is something wrong?”

“No ma’am.”

“Am I supposed to guess why you suddenly sound like an android?”

Paula smiled. “Sorry. I was asleep when the call came in and I haven’t had time to recharge my batteries. I’m running on auxiliary backup packs.”

“Ha ha. Come inside and have some coffee, then.”

Paula checked in with a quick glance at Cam, who signaled for her to follow them into the house.

“I’m going to grab a quick shower,” Cam said, heading in the direction of the staircase leading to the second floor. “Be right down.”

Blair led Paula through to the kitchen, while Patrice Hara took up a position just inside the rear door and Greg Wozinski walked through to the front of the house. “How’s Renée doing?” she asked casually as she began to assemble the morning coffee.

“Restless.” Paula settled into a chair at the rectangular oak table in the center of the room.

“Tell me about it.” Blair turned on the automatic coffee pot, put a kettle of water on for tea, and sat down next to her. “Renée is just like Cam—neither of them is happy unless they’re working.” She touched Paula’s wrist lightly. “You should understand that. You’re all the same, really.”

There had been a time when the slightest touch from Blair would have made Paula blush. She could not believe that eight months had passed since the few ill-advised hours she’d spent in the intimate company of the first daughter. The lapse was one of a potentially career destroying magnitude, and although she regretted her irresponsible behavior, she did not regret the private moments they had shared. Now, it seemed like the interlude had taken place in another lifetime, when she had been another woman. In the few scant months since then, she’d seen Cameron Roberts almost die, Blair narrowly escape assassination, and the nation that the entire world had considered unassailable become the victim of terrorism. She didn’t blush.

“I do understand. But the doctor said she needed another few days before she could start walking, and the inactivity is wearing on her.”

Blair knew the problem was more than just inactivity. Renée, along with many of the New York based FBI and Secret Service field agents, had been in the World Trade Center at the time the towers had been hit. She’d seen the devastation and horror firsthand. “It’s going to take some time, Paula. She’ll heal.”

Paula’s eyes revealed what she couldn’t say. Wouldn’t say, out of respect for her lover’s privacy. “I know.”

“She has the one thing she needs most of all,” Blair said gently. “You.”

“Oh, man,” Paula said softly. “I hope that’s enough.” She wished she could feel certain, but she feared that something in Renée’s soul had been irreparably broken and neither time nor love would heal it.

Blair stood. “Trust me, it is.” She set a mug of tea at an empty place for Cam. “I think right now the people we care about might be all that matter.”

“I…uh…how are you doing?” Paula asked as Blair poured their coffees.

Everyone knew how private Blair was, and it wasn’t really her place to ask personal questions. But since September 11, the world as they knew it was gone and some of the old rules no longer seemed to apply. Paula understood the necessity for viewing the subjects she protected as critically valuable individuals, while at the same time avoiding any kind of personal involvement, even friendship. But they’d all been through so much together that the usual professional detachment seemed impossible, especially when Blair had been the object of a nearly successful assassination attempt in her own heavily-fortified home. What was once considered inconceivable now fell within the realm of the probable. It could happen again, and Paula had to see that it didn’t.

“Sometimes I still can’t believe that any of it really happened,” Blair said quietly.

“I know.” Paula took a deep breath. She was still trying to understand her new role as Blair ’s security chief and what the boundaries were. Most of the time when she wasn’t certain, she followed her heart. That probably wasn’t the way the commander did things, but she would never be the commander. “We weren’t prepared for what happened in the Aerie, but we will be now. They failed, which just shows you how good your security was, even against the unexpected. Now it will be even better because we know the game has changed.”

The game has changed.

Blair suppressed a shudder. Yes, the rules of engagement had definitely changed, and she was an unwilling player in a game where the stakes were higher than she’d ever imagined. She glanced toward the door as Cam walked in. Her black hair was wet and slicked back, making the sharp planes of her face stand out even more. Even in a loose black T-shirt and blue jeans, her body looked taut and fighting ready. Blair could tell from the set of her jaw that she’d heard the last part of the conversation; she had that intense, hard expression she always got when the subject of Blair’s vulnerability came up.

“I’m not worried.” Blair said, “We have the winning team.”

Cam leaned down and brushed a kiss over her cheek, then regarded the tea with a raised eyebrow. “Is that for me?”

“Yes,” Blair said with exaggerated seriousness. “And there’s honey on the counter. Put some in. It will help your throat.”

“I think coffee will do fine.”

“Cameron.” Blair’s eyes glittered dangerously.

“But tea is probably better,” Cam amended as she retrieved the jar of honey.

Paula watched the exchange with apparent interest, then looked quickly away as Cam gave her a pointed stare. She rose without finishing her coffee. “I’ll be in the command center.”

“Wait, Paula.” Blair kept her gaze on Cam, thinking how much she loved going to sleep with her every night and waking up with her in the morning and having her around during the day. Just being with her. Not being guarded by her, not being worried over. Just being in her company. But this week had been an anomaly, and they both knew it. Softly, she said, “Ready?”

Cam nodded.

“Paula,” Blair said. “I think we better make that call.”

 

Chapter Two

I just sent a transport plane to Lexington for you.” In her usual rapid-fire fashion, Lucinda Washburn continued, “It should be there in two hours. Come on over to the office when you get in.”

“Hi, Luce,” Blair said sarcastically. “How’s your day going?”

“About the way they’ve all been going for the last month.”

Blair was surprised by the weariness in Lucinda’s voice. She couldn’t remember ever seeing her tired. In fact, she wasn’t certain she’d ever known Lucinda to actually sleep. “Is everything all right?”

“As all right as can be expected.” A small, impatient sigh filtered down the phone line. “Come home. We’ll talk.”

Home. The White House would never feel like home to Blair, because it wasn’t, even though her father and Lucinda were there. True, she had no other family home. Her father had sold the house she had grown up in when her mother died. Blair was twelve at the time, and after that she had lived in the governor’s mansion or whatever other house came with her father’s political position. Lucinda had always been like family. She’d been a close friend of both Blair’s parents before Blair’s mother died, and she’d been a constant figure in Blair’s life ever since. Not a mother figure, but strong and capable and comforting, for all her demands. But Blair’s home was her loft in Manhattan, and that had been nearly destroyed in an attack that had come at the same time as the devastation at the World Trade Center. She didn’t have a home now, and the memories of terror and death chilled her. She glanced at Cam, who watched her pensively. Cam. Cam was home.

Blair pushed the images of loss away. “It will take us a while to arrange transportation to the airport.”

“I can get State Troopers to escort you.”

“God, no,” Blair said with barely suppressed horror. “I’ve got all the protection I need. Just tell the pilot he may have to wait.”

“All right then. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Blair ended the call and handed the phone back to Paula. “We’re leaving.”

“I’ll let the teams know,” Paula said.

“I’ll call Tanner and arrange for drivers.” Cam hesitated, casting a questioning look in Stark’s direction. “If that’s all right with you.”

“It’s fine. Thanks,” Stark answered on her way out the back door.

Cam set her tea aside and slid her arms around Blair’s waist. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know.” Blair kissed the tip of Cam’s chin. “But Lucinda wants to talk.”

“Uh-oh.”

Blair sighed. “I know.” She rocked her hips lightly against Cam’s. “Have you heard anything from Stewart?”

Cam shook her head. Assistant Director Stewart Carlisle was her immediate superior in the Department of the Treasury, but since she’d most recently been on special assignment reporting directly to the president, she hadn’t been under Stewart’s command for some time. “I don’t actually know who I’m reporting to anymore.” She glanced through the back door to the guest house visible partway down the slope to the beach. Blair’s security team was there. The nerve center of all that went into protecting Blair was there. And she wasn’t. “Especially since I’m not on your security team anymore.”

Blair leaned back, hooking her thumbs in the loops of Cam’s jeans. “It bothers you, doesn’t it. That Stark is in charge now.”

“Stark’s a good agent.”

Blair laughed. “Cameron. Don’t even try.”

Cam forced herself to unclench her jaw. “Yes, it bothers me. I didn’t want to be switched from investigation to protection when they first assigned me to your team last year. But you know what?” She kissed Blair lightly. “I’m good at it. And I’m motivated. I like…” She shrugged. “…looking after you.”

“Oh, darling,” Blair murmured. “You do look after me. In all the ways that mean the most to me. You love me, and that’s what I really need. I don’t need you throwing yourself in front of me if some crazy person decides they don’t like the color of my dress.”

“I know that’s not what you need.” Cam ran a hand through her hair. “But it’s kind of what I need.”

“I know.” Blair hugged her tightly. It was rare that she could touch Cam without being aroused, for which she was pleased and grateful. She hoped that never changed. She couldn’t imagine not wanting her. Just at the moment, though, she wanted to comfort her because it was so unusual for Cam to be unsure about anything. And she could sense Cam’s unease and uncertainty. “We all need time to get adjusted to the changes, Cam. But I’m always going to need you.”

Cam smiled and rested her forehead against Blair’s. “And I’m always going to need you.”

 

Paula hurried down the twisting path to the guesthouse. Under other circumstances she would have taken a second to appreciate the unseasonably warm early October morning, but her mind was totally consumed with the myriad details of her job. She felt the full weight of her new responsibilities intensely, but beneath the low-level hum of nerves, she was also aware of the surge of excitement that always accompanied any operation when Egret, as Blair was officially called, was on the move.

“Listen up,” she said as she pushed through the front door into the living room. “Egret is flying.” She shed the windbreaker she’d grabbed earlier on her way down to the beach and rolled up the sleeves of her white button-down collar shirt. She headed straight for the dining room where they’d set up their computers and communication equipment. “I’m going to call DC to arrange ground transport.”

Felicia Davis, a statuesque African-American with features that suggested she might be descended from an ancient Egyptian queen, sat in a rattan chair sipping coffee. “Shall I arrange accommodations?”

“Yes. The usual hotel. At least for a night until the commander— until I determine Egret’s immediate schedule.”

Pushing numbers on her cell phone, Felicia rose and walked to the French doors leading to a wide deck with a view of the beach.

“What about me?” Renée Savard reclined on a sofa with her left leg propped up on an overstuffed hassock. A blue fabric knee immobilizer with wide white Velcro straps was wrapped around her knee. “Can I tag along?”

Paula held up one finger as she spoke into the phone and simultaneously entered information into the computer. A minute passed, then she disconnected and returned to the living room to sit next to Renée. She skimmed her fingers through her lover’s shoulder length golden-brown hair. “How’s your leg?”

“Other than the fact that it feels as heavy as a tree trunk, and about as functional, it’s fine,” Renée said edgily. Her blue eyes narrowed. “It would feel a hell of a lot better without this immobilizer.”

“Just for a few more days.”

Renée waved her away. “Go take care of what you have to take care of. How soon are you leaving?”

“ASAP.”

“Well then, don’t waste time asking me about my stupid leg.”

Paula kept her expression neutral. She knew Renée’s leg hurt, and she knew that her bad temper was more than pain. “Do you want to hang out here while we’re gone? I can get Tanner to arrange a private car to take you back to Manhattan if you don’t.”

Tanner Whitley, heir to the Whitley corporate dynasty and the owner of Whitley Island, was one of Blair’s oldest friends from prep school. She also had one of the best private security forces in the country. Her crew had been providing perimeter protection during Blair’s stay, ensuring that no one approached the house from the main road that bisected the island. Stark trusted Tanner completely.

“I don’t want to go back to Manhattan.” Renée sounded uncharacteristically petulant. “Not when I can’t work. Not when you’re not there.” She leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “Jesus, listen to me. I’m pathetic. I’m sure you don’t want me underfoot while you’re working.”

“I don’t know how long we’ll be in DC, or where we’ll be going after that,” Paula said. “But—”

“Just go, Paula. I’ll call Tanner later and arrange my own—”

“But,” Paula continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted, “if it turns out we’re not staying in DC, it’s just as easy for you to head back to Manhattan from there as from here. Come with us.”

A crooked smile broke the smooth caramel plains of Renée’s cheeks. “Sometimes I wish you weren’t so sweet when I’m being cranky. It makes me feel guilty, which just makes me crankier.”

“I’d be cranky too,” Paula whispered. “I’m sorry it’s so hard for you right now.”

Renée’s eyes filled with tears and she looked away. “Jesus. I need to do something. If I sit around much longer, I’m going to really be crazy.”

“Officially you’re still part of the commander’s team, even though you’re on sick leave,” Paula said with conviction. “So, you’re coming with us. You need help packing?”

Renée grabbed the crutches that leaned against the sofa next to her. “No. I can manage. You go take care of things, Chief.”

“Yeah, okay,” Paula said, unable to keep her face from flushing. Chief. It sounded good.

 

Blair left her suitcases by the front door and walked outside to take a last look at the ocean. She wasn’t sure when she’d be able to come back to the island and she already missed it. The solitude was good for her art. She’d been able to paint here, despite everything that had happened to her and the rest of the world. She had asked Tanner to investigate the possibility of her purchasing the house; the current owners only used it as a rental property. The location was perfect— isolated, easy to defend, and close to Tanner, whom she missed and never managed to visit enough. It was also near enough to Manhattan that Diane Bleeker, her art agent and best friend, could easily visit.

She sat down on the top step of the rear deck and punched in a number on the disposable cell phone Cam insisted she use. She was half surprised when the call was answered.

“Hi, where are you?”

“Still in Manhattan,” Diane replied. “How about you?”

“About to head south.” There was no reason to think that her calls were being monitored, but after the constant admonishments of her various security teams, Blair had reluctantly accepted the necessity of caution. She avoided mentioning the specifics of her travel plans in phone conversations. Diane was used to filling in the blanks.

“Ah,” Diane said, “back to the real world.”

“Yes. Do you have the gallery open?”

“I’ve postponed the next show at the artist’s request. He didn’t think it was the best time, and I tend to agree with him. It will take a while until it’s business as usual back here.”

“So are you going to take a trip?” Blair asked lightly, although she waited for the answer with a sense of misgiving. Diane had recently become romantically involved with a CIA agent who had disappeared under mysterious circumstances, and Blair worried that Diane was somehow going to try to find her. In all the years they’d known one another, Blair had never seen Diane truly in love before. Now that Diane had fallen hard, only to be left just as abruptly, she was suffering. It pained Blair to know that her friend was hurting.

“I haven’t decided yet. I’m waiting for…inspiration.”

She’s waiting for Valerie to contact her, Blair mentally translated. “Well if that occurs, you’ll be sure to let me know.”


Date: 2015-12-11; view: 597


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