Word of Honor

“Yes sir. Are you comfortable, sir? Everything you need there?”

“Perfectly, Colonel. Thank you and carry on.”

“Sir.”

Matheson disconnected and settled back in the chair, crossing his long legs at the ankle. Information was easy to come by. Until recently, access to potential targets—people and places—had been relatively simple as well. Getting close to Blair Powell might be more difficult now, but it was far from impossible. He smiled. A challenge merely made the hunt more satisfying.

The outcome was not in question. After all, he had God on his side.

Dana stepped off the elevator into a foyer that could have been in any luxury apartment building in the city. The eight by ten foot space was dimly lit by wall sconces, the marble floor nearly hidden beneath a thick oriental carpet, and the walls papered in some muted classic pattern above dark wood wainscoting. The surroundings spoke of money and taste and elegance. Even the cameras discreetly tucked into several corners weren’t that unusual in a security-conscious city, nor was the fact that the elevator required a special key, which Agent Stark had produced when they were ready to ride up. The man standing with his back to the wall next to the only door in the foyer was different, though. A blond-haired, blue-eyed clone of the one who had greeted her in the lobby downstairs scrutinized her and Stark with unapologetic intensity. Agent Stark handed him Dana’s ID, which Dana had surrendered upon request when Stark had informed her that the first daughter would see her.

“This is Dana Barnett,” Agent Stark said, handing the ID to the agent guarding the door.

The man studied Dana’s face, then the ID, then Dana once more. He held out her ID and she took it.

“Why the ID check? Doesn’t he believe you?” Dana asked Agent Stark. She didn’t get an answer, and she wasn’t entirely surprised. Thus far she’d been told three times in slightly different fashions that the Secret Service does not discuss protocol. “If I don’t know, I may have to make things up.”

“Perhaps you just shouldn’t report on topics that haven’t been cleared,” Stark replied mildly.

“Is anything ever going to be cleared?”

“I’m sure Ms. Powell’s wardrobe…no, actually, I’m not certain of that either.”

Dana grinned ruefully. She had a feeling that Agent Stark wasn’t making a joke. “All right, tell me if I’m hot or cold. He won’t take your word for it because I could have coerced you into bringing me up here. However, since I wouldn’t know to give you my ID to give to him, that’s a signal that you brought me here intentionally. It’s a code.”

“I doubt that Ms. Powell has much time allotted for you,” Stark said. “We probably shouldn’t waste any.”

“You’re right.” Dana waited while Stark knocked on the door. “But I was hot, wasn’t I?”

As she spoke, the door swung open and Blair Powell regarded them with interest. “Something new and exciting I should know about?”

Stark blushed. “No, ma’am. Dana Barnett to see you.”

Blair looked Barnett over. She appeared slightly more rested than the day before, but obviously wasn’t concerned about the image she projected. Her chinos and white button-down collar shirt were clean but not pressed, the black leather belt cinched above narrow hips was dull with age, and her boots similarly worn. Her casual disregard for her appearance and her lack of desire to make a good impression were refreshing.

“I gather you couldn’t convince anyone there’d been a terrible mistake?” Blair asked.

Dana couldn’t help but smile. “Apparently, Lucinda Washburn doesn’t make mistakes.” She raised a hopeful eyebrow. “What about you? Any luck?”

“Apparently not,” Blair said dryly, appreciating Barnett’s disregard for her position. Usually the press tended to be obsequious or obnoxious, but rarely unimpressed. “You’re here.”

Cam stepped up next to Blair. “I only have a few more minutes.”

“I know.” Blair slipped an arm around Cam’s waist. “Come in, Ms. Barnett.”

“Please, call me Dana.” Dana followed the first daughter and the deputy director as they crossed to a seating area in the center of the loft. She had caught the flash of discomfort that streaked across Blair Powell’s face an instant before she hid it behind the beautiful façade the world was used to seeing. The first daughter was unhappy about something. The deputy director looked as impassive as a stone statue. Except. Except when her eyes moved ever so briefly to Blair Powell’s face. Then her charcoal eyes sparked with tenderness and heat. The wave of raw desire emanating from Cameron Roberts washed over Dana so unexpectedly she had no time to prepare. She broke out into a sweat and her heart rate soared. Jesus. These two should come with a warning sign.

Roberts turned to Dana and Dana stiffened under the unwavering gaze.

“Sit down, Ms. Barnett,” Roberts said, taking Blair Powell’s hand as the two sat on a leather sofa in a seating area with a fireplace on one wall, huge windows on the other and open space. The hammered tin ceilings had to be twenty feet high.

Dana forced her tense muscles to relax as she settled onto a matching sofa with a sleek dark coffee table the same color as the floor between them. “I appreciate you seeing me this morning, Ms. Powell.”

Blair smiled. “I have a feeling you would have made Stark’s morning unpleasant if I hadn’t.”

“I make it a point not to misrepresent myself, so I won’t disagree.” Dana fixed on the deputy director. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“I supported Lucinda Washburn’s position on you having exclusive access to Ms. Powell for the next week or so,” Roberts said, “because I feel that it benefits the first daughter. If that should no longer be the case, we’ll sever your contact with her.”

“Are you trying to offer me a loophole to slip out of this assignment, Deputy Director?”

“Is that what you want?” Roberts replied.

Dana thought about the two women sitting across from her. Blair Powell was publicly one of the most important women in the United States by virtue of her position as well as her popularity. Cameron Roberts held a critical position vital to the security of the United States and yet remained a cipher, virtually unrecognizable to the man on the street. They were about to become the focus of intense media scrutiny and much debate. They were news, no question. But they were more than reluctant celebrities—they were the public and not so public faces of power, and she had the opportunity to be closer to them than anyone in her position ever had. “No. I’m not looking for an out.”

“Why not?” Cam asked. “Twenty-four hours ago you didn’t think this assignment was very important.”

Dana took a deep breath. “I apologize for that.” She looked at Blair. “Ms. Powell, I hope you forgive my arrogance. I’m honored to be able to take part in what I know must be a very important event in your life.”

Blair laughed. “What part interests you the most? My trousseau? The menu? The floral arrangements?”

“Uh.” Dana felt the blood drain from her face and scrambled for an answer. She frowned. “How do you decide what to wear? I mean, for the majority of couples it’s a tux and a dress. So what will it be for you two? Dresses?” As she looked from one to the other, she had the satisfaction of seeing Cameron Roberts’s face blanch.

“Ignore her, darling,” Blair murmured, loud enough for Dana to hear, “she’s baiting you.”

“It’s working,” Roberts muttered. She stared at Dana. “Whatever story you think you’re going to get, you will not be allowed to compromise her security.”

“Agent Stark made that very clear,” Dana said without rancor.

“We don’t anticipate any trouble.” Roberts clasped the first daughter’s hand as she spoke. “But in the event of an emergency, you’ll be expected to follow orders. If not—”

“I’m a reporter, Deputy Director, and I’ve been to the front. I understand chain of command, and I understand that in the heat of battle not everyone is created equal.” She didn’t expect anyone to look out for her if something untoward happened. “I have no problem with that.”

“Well, I do,” Blair said, standing abruptly and walking away.

Surprised, Dana stared after her, then said to Roberts, “I’m sorry.”

Roberts nodded, looking as if she wanted go after the president’s daughter, but she didn’t. “Anything you may see or hear regarding her security is strictly classified. If one word about procedure makes its way into your article, I will personally—”

“It won’t,” Dana said sharply. “I know my job and my responsibility.”

“Good. Having you around isn’t going to be easy for her. Don’t make it any harder.”

“What about you? You’re in this too.”

“I’m not noteworthy.” Roberts actually looked surprised, as if it hadn’t even crossed her mind that her own role in the upcoming nuptials would be of interest to anyone.

Dana got the picture then, sharp and clear. Cameron Roberts had one single focus, and that was the woman standing across the room, looking out the windows at the rain with her back to them. Roberts didn’t like the idea of Dana covering the proceedings much more than Blair Powell did, but she’d supported Washburn’s idea as the lesser of many evils. One reporter versus twenty, control versus chaos. Nevertheless, Roberts was obviously worried about the cost to Blair Powell’s peace of mind.

“I’m not going to make her uncomfortable,” Dana said quietly, not wanting the first daughter to overhear. “I think she’s incredibly brave and I think she’s doing something important for the country, not just in acknowledging her relationship with you, but standing up publicly now, when almost everyone else is wondering if they should be finding a place to hide.”

Roberts relaxed infinitesimally and some of the tension eased from her face. Dana hadn’t realized how tightly she was wound until just that moment.

“I agree with you.” Roberts stood. “I have a plane to catch. If you would give us a moment, please.”

“Absolutely. I’ll wait outside.” Dana held out her hand. “I’m good at my job, Deputy Director. She’ll be in good hands.”

Roberts smiled as she returned the handshake. “Call me Cam.”

“Thanks. Cam.”

“Hey,” Cam murmured, smoothing her hands over Blair’s shoulders. She kissed the back of her neck. “You okay?”

Blair turned from the window, scanning the room. “You got rid of her?”

Cam kissed her. “Don’t rejoice yet. She still wants to talk to you. I think she’s waiting out in the hall.”

“Of course she is.” Blair sighed and draped her arms around Cam’s neck. “You have to go, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Who are you taking with you?”

“Renee.”

Blair frowned. “That’s all?”

“I don’t need a bodyguard, baby,” Cam said gently. “And it really is just a routine interrogation.”

“You needed a bodyguard a month ago when someone tried to run you down. Oh, and don’t forget that little attempt to blow you up too.” Blair forced back the memory of just how close Cam had come to dying that night in the cold, black ocean. She wanted to chain her to a desk, even though she knew Cam would hate it. She almost didn’t mind how unhappy being stuck in an office would make Cam, as long as she was safe. And if she thought about that for very long, she would be forced to appreciate why Cam wanted to keep her hidden away somewhere, out of harm’s way. And she did not want to go there. Oh, this two-way street thing definitely took some getting used to. “What about Valerie? Can’t you take Valerie?”

“Renee is an excellent agent.”

“I know that. I just thought two would be better—”

“I can’t take Valerie where we’re going.” Cam brushed the backs of her fingers over Blair’s cheek. “There’s no danger. I swear.”

“Call me, okay? Whenever.”

“I will.” Cam kissed her, then let her go. “Are you ready for Dana Barnett?”

Blair sighed. “Why not.”

Cam laughed. “I love you. See you soon.”

“See you soon,” Blair whispered, watching Cam gather her topcoat and briefcase. She might have been any executive on her way to a midday meeting, except for the .357 pistol holstered against her left side. “Hey, Cam?”

Cam turned with the door half open.

“I love you.”

Cam smiled and stepped aside to let Dana Barnett enter. Then the door closed and she was gone. Blair remained where she was, waiting

for the familiar surge of anxiety to pass. Cam would be fine, and she would be back soon. No one would come to the door with the message there had been a bomb on a plane, or an escaped fugitive with a gun, or a biological warfare attack. Cam would come home. Blair felt Dana watching her from across the room and shrugged off the melancholy. “Coffee?”

“Yes, thanks,” Dana replied.

“Make yourself comfortable, I’ll just be a second.” Blair filled mugs from the pot in the kitchen and sliced a couple of bagels while she was at it. She put everything on a tray along with cream and butter, and carried them into the living area. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks.” Dana leaned forward and grabbed a bagel and poured cream into a mug of coffee. “Where’s the deputy director going?”

“I don’t know.”

Dana looked up. “Is that normal?”

Blair grimaced. “Is anything?”

“You’ve got a point.” Dana tried the coffee. It was good. “Does it bother you? The secrecy between you?”

Blair set her coffee aside. “I guess it’s time for ground rules.”

“Why not. Everyone else has given them to me.”

“Mine are pretty simple, really. You can ask me anything you want, but there are certain things I won’t answer. I won’t talk about my relationship with Cam. I love her and we’re going to be married. That’s all you really need to know about that.”

“I’m not very good at pretending.”

“What do you mean?” Blair asked.

“Maybe you believe your own press—that other than the fact that you happen to be two women, your relationship with Cameron Roberts is just like any other relationship—but I’m sure not buying it.” Dana leaned back and rested one ankle on her knee. “You know that’s complete and total bullshit.”

“You really don’t want this assignment, do you?”

“No, I decided that I do.”

“And you think antagonizing me is a good idea?”

“Maybe,” Dana offered, “if it gets you to talk to me.”

“I don’t talk to people about my personal life.”

“How about the deputy director? Do you talk to her about how much her job scares you?”

Blair stood up. “Okay. We’re done.”

Dana stood. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any talent for interviewing. I’m usually trying to get information in the middle of a gun battle or a typhoon, and social niceties are just too damn inconvenient. Thank you for your time.”

When Dana started toward the door, Blair called after her. “Why did you ask me that?”

Dana stopped, but didn’t turn around. “I saw it in your face a few minutes ago.”

“Assuming it’s true, why would I want anyone around who’s that intuitive?”

“The story here isn’t two women getting married, Ms. Powell.” Dana pivoted to face Blair. “It’s who the two women are, and every reporter worth her column space in this country—hell, in the world— knows it. They’ll be on you like piranhas.”

Blair’s temper flared. “And how do you think I feel about that?”

“I imagine you hate it. But if I don’t write the story, someone else will—whether they actually know anything or not.” Dana slid her hands into her pockets and shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll tell the truth. I’ll respect the special nature of her job, and yours.”

“Better the devil you know?”

Dana grinned. “That’s about it.”

“I’ll have Stark get you the keys to one of the apartments in the building. It will be more convenient.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I’m going shopping this afternoon. Around two.”

“That sounds like fun,” Dana said, sounding as if each word were painful.

Blair smiled. “Oh, it will be.”

Chapter Nine

“Who do we have?” Cam settled onto the rear seat of the SUV across from Savard. The regional office in Virginia had sent two FBI field agents to transport them to the Federal Bureau of Prisons Detention Center where detainees from Matheson’s mountain camp were being held.

“Martin Early,” Savard replied, passing a folder across the space between them. “Arrested at Matheson’s compound. In addition to firing on federal officers, he had recruitment documents in a cardboard box behind the seat of his truck. It looks like he was trying to clear out some of Matheson’s paperwork before we showed up.”

Cam checked to be sure the mics to the front compartment were off. She didn’t know the agents who had met them at the airfield, but that wasn’t unusual. The fledgling OHS had yet to recruit a full complement of agents and for the time being was forced to commandeer bodies from other security divisions. She suspected the rumors that the OHS would soon become a cabinet department were true, and once that happened, they’d have more funds and more permanent agents. But for now, the occasional inconvenience of being shorthanded was far preferable to the bureaucratic entanglements that were sure to result as the politicians and directors of various agencies struggled for supremacy in the new security structure. “Early is what—Matheson’s third or fourth in command?”

“From what we’ve been able to put together from duty rosters and memos confiscated during the raid, we can at least put him in the upper echelons. He’s a graduate of Matheson’s military academy, although he wasn’t much of a scholar.” Savard spoke quietly, but her tone suggested she was frustrated. Or angry. “We haven’t exactly had free access to information. We’ve been looking for this guy for a month, and finally tracked him down at the BOP in Virginia. Somehow, no one was quite sure where they’d put him.”

“That seems to be happening with persons of interest a lot these days,” Cam said grimly. She suspected that the DOD or the CIA, or both, were sequestering potential terrorists away from the other security agencies. The failure to predict 9/11 had not yet been laid at anyone’s door, and it was doubtful there was any single agency to blame. Nevertheless, no one wanted detainees giving up information that would point to their own agency as culpable. It was politics, and politics always derailed justice. “Does the prison director know why we’re coming?”

Savard gave a predatory smile. “No. We just informed him to expect the deputy director late this afternoon.”

“No reason for us to share if no one else does.” Cam studied the 4x4 color photograph reproduced on the first page of the file. The man was younger than she had anticipated, perhaps mid twenties, and she wasn’t certain why she was surprised. Most of her team members weren’t a lot older. He looked like a typical all-American boy grown up—blond, blue-eyed, fair complexion. But his mouth was thin and hard and his eyes held nothing but fury and contempt. “What does he do when he’s not playing soldier?”

“He’s a trucker.”

“Interstate?”

“Up and down the East Coast.”

“That’s convenient,” Cam said. “Is there any evidence that puts him in contact with the hijackers?”

Savard looked pained. “I wish I could answer that, Commander. But no one is giving us anything and all our requests for files have been ignored. It’s taken us weeks just to pinpoint this guy’s location. It’s like a shell game—find the detainee.”

“Felicia can’t dig up anything?” If there was information in any computer anywhere, Cam was convinced Felicia could find it, given enough time.

“She says no.”

Cam frowned. “Then someone has decided to shut us out.”

“It looks that way to us. Just the same, we’re working all of Early’s known associates and the truck routes he’s run for the last year. We might be able to put him with one of the hijackers, and if we do, that ties Matheson in as well.”

“Good,” Cam said neutrally. Building a case against Matheson that would stand up in a court of law was going to be difficult given the lack of access to intelligence, although her team would keep working to do just that. She knew what Matheson had done, and she knew that he would keep coming until he was stopped. Men like Matheson didn’t consider themselves bound by the law, which gave him the kind of freedom his victims didn’t enjoy. Cam valued and respected the need for order and the ascendancy of the common good, but in Matheson’s case those finer points of law were long past.

Her goal was simple, to find Matheson and stop him. Apprehending a lone fugitive, especially one with an extensive network of supporters and undoubtedly sizable funds, was a difficult undertaking. Matheson could move around the country easily with very little risk of detection unless he attempted to access bank accounts or return to his known previous locations. So far, he hadn’t done that. He’d had no reason to— his friends and colleagues in the patriot movement were sheltering him. She’d already talked with her FBI counterpart, and the surveillance of known patriot organizations had been stepped up. They might get lucky and catch Matheson meeting with one of the ringleaders. Fugitives had been apprehended more than once by some fluke—a traffic stop, being recognized by someone who’d seen their picture on America’s Most Wanted, an accident that forced them to seek medical care. Somehow, she didn’t think Matheson was going to be careless. Even though she doubted they would find him before he made another move, they would continue the hunt. In the meantime, she wasn’t going to take anything for granted, not even her own intuition.

Once Dana was alone in the apartment two floors below Blair Powell where she’d be staying for the next few days, she unpacked, which took all of five minutes, and then wandered through the impersonally furnished rooms thinking about the woman sequestered upstairs. Out of the spotlight, when Blair wasn’t performing some official function— and Dana had the sense that performing was exactly what Blair did under those circumstances—she was a fascinating woman. Reviews of the first daughter’s paintings by several well-known art critics indicated that art was not a hobby for her. Blair had real talent. Most artists shunned the spotlight, preferring to pour their energies into their creations. It must be a burden for Blair to be constantly thrust into the public eye. Add to that the fact that she was a lesbian and involved in a controversial relationship with a woman who was once responsible for her protection, and the tapestry became even more intriguing.

And she’s beautiful, Dana admitted to herself as she stood in front of the windows looking down on Gramercy Park. More than beautiful, really. Blair had that sensual spark that set everyone in the vicinity a little bit on fire. Dana grinned ruefully. She’d felt that pull of attraction the first time they’d met, and Cameron Roberts had picked up on it immediately. Nice, getting caught lusting after the first daughter in front of her lover. Great way to start an assignment.

Dana wasn’t really worried. She had lots of practice keeping her fly zipped. Spending half the year on the road, or most likely in places where there were no roads, wasn’t exactly conducive to having a love life. She’d discovered pretty quickly that the stress and uncertainty of danger tended to make people do things they wouldn’t ordinarily do. When you weren’t sure you’d wake up in the morning, you hated to waste a night, especially if you could spend it with someone else who was just as eager as you to feel alive. The good thing was, most of the time you did wake up the next day. Unfortunately, the night before would often come back to haunt you. After a few embarrassing and one painful experience, she’d decided love on the run didn’t have much to recommend it. She’d gotten used to going without, but occasionally she got blindsided. Happily, she was in the clear now. She only had to see Blair Powell and Cameron Roberts together for a few minutes to realize nothing and no one would come between them, not that she wanted to. But just witnessing the power of what they shared was enough to banish any lingering fantasies.

She turned from the window and surveyed the nicely appointed but completely sterile apartment and contemplated powering up her computer to investigate the players further. But now that she’d met Blair Powell and Cameron Roberts, she realized that nothing that had been written about them, or speculated about them, was going to tell her anything of real value. Since she was still at least forty-six hours behind in sleep, she stretched out on top of the bed in one of the bedrooms and closed her eyes.

When the knock came on her door, Dana woke instantly and checked her watch. Showtime.

“Be right there.” Briskly, she rubbed her face, made a quick stop in the bathroom to douse her face with cold water and chase the cobwebs from her head, and grabbed her leather flight jacket on her way to the door. A small, slim woman with straight jet-black hair and almond-shaped deep brown eyes wearing a well-cut navy suit greeted her when she stepped out into the hall.

“I’m Special Agent Hara,” the woman said.

“Dana Barnett,” Dana said, feeling foolish since she knew the agent knew her name. And likely everything else there was to know about her.

“If you’ll come with me, please.”

They rode down the elevator in silence and exited the lobby where an SUV stood idling at the curb. Stark stood by the open rear door, her body partially obscuring the interior as she scanned the street in both directions. A half dozen reporters and a couple of cameramen jostled to get a look into the car around the big blond whom Dana had last seen standing outside Blair’s apartment. He was effectively blocking the sidewalk between the crowd and the Suburban.

“Dana!” A woman’s voice rose above the general onslaught of shouts. “What are you doing with the first daughter’s detail? Are you dating her or is it business?”

Caught off guard, Dana half turned toward the gaggle of reporters and saw cameras raised in her direction. Other people shouted questions, most of which she didn’t catch in the general tumult of noise, but she did hear the phrases sleeping with, new lover, and where is Roberts? She also saw a society reporter for the Baltimore Herald with whom she’d once had a brief fling. They had been great in bed, but their professional ideologies had been so different they couldn’t carry on a conversation for more than five minutes. Looking quickly away, Dana ducked into the back seat behind Hara.

“Jesus,” Dana muttered. “Nice reception.”

“Welcome to my world.” Blair Powell, dressed in dark slacks, black boots, and a burgundy blouse beneath a long black leather duster, occupied the opposite seat. She’d pulled her hair back somehow, taming the thick curls, and Dana realized how different she looked with it worn this way. The wild earthy look had been replaced by cool sophisticate. Both looks were sexy.

Dana met Blair’s eyes. “Is that normal?”

“It didn’t used to be, but…” Blair glanced out the window at the reporters straggling back to the news vans. “For the last few months it has been.”

“What about the man on the street? Are you bothered by people wanting to talk to you?”

“Not really. Unless they notice my entourage,” Blair grinned at Hara, “they don’t even recognize me.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Blair’s eyebrows rose. There wasn’t anything flirtatious in Dana Barnett’s tone, although Blair had caught the barest flicker of interest from her a time or two. The reporter’s compliment seemed to be genuine. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Dana removed a small digital recorder from the pocket of her leather jacket and showed it to Blair. “Do you mind? I’ll only use it while I’m actually interviewing you.”

“Where do the cards go when you’re done with them?” Blair asked.

Dana had half expected Blair to refuse outright, and the question took her by surprise. Most of the people she interviewed were eager for exposure. “I keep them locked in a safe. No one ever hears them except me.”

Blair was silent for a moment. “It’s all right with me, but I have a feeling there’s a protocol for this sort of thing.” She glanced at Hara, who appeared relaxed but alert sitting next to Dana. “Do you know, Patrice?”

“No, ma’am, but I would suggest clearing it with the chief and the commander.”

“Why don’t we assume it’s all right for now.” Blair saw the small red light come on at the end of the device. “By the way, Dana, are you a lesbian?”

Dana laughed and looked at the tape recorder in her hand. “For the record? Yes.”

“Not that it matters, of course,” Blair added.

“Considering that your marriage won’t be legal, why are you doing it?” Dana asked.

“Because it should be legal, and because I don’t need anyone’s permission to promise my life to Cam.”

“How does your father feel about it?”

“You should probably ask him about that.”

“I’d love to,” Dana said, “but I’m not sure I could get past Ms. Washburn to ask him.”

“He’ll be coming to the wedding. You can ask him then.”

Dana sat up straight. “The president is coming?”

“That’s not official,” Blair said, “so you’ll need to wait until the White House officially announces it. Unless you want Lucinda on your tail.”

“Are you kidding?” Dana said. “As soon as that word goes out, the number of reporters in Colorado will triple. You’re damn right I’ll keep it quiet.”

The SUV pulled over to the curb and slowed to a stop. Hara shifted toward the door, again blocking the interior as someone on the outside opened it. Dana craned her neck to see around Hara and saw Stark guarding the door again. Then a drop-dead gorgeous blonde in a Fifth Avenue wardrobe climbed in and settled next to Blair Powell. She kissed Blair on the cheek, then set her gaze on Dana.

“Blair, honey, whatever have you picked up?”

“Diane, this is Dana Barnett, the reporter I told you about,” Blair said dryly.

“Hello, Dana,” Diane said, savoring the name as if it were a fine wine.

Dana felt a pleasant anticipatory rush. The blonde’s smoky voice was like liquid heat pouring over her. She leaned across the space between them with her hand outstretched. “I think I’m going to like shopping after all.”

“Oh, my dear, you have no idea,” Diane purred as she took Dana’s hand.

Blair shook her head. “Diane.”

“I’m just being sociable.” Diane leisurely crossed her legs. “I told you, I don’t intend to touch.”

Dana laughed. “Do I get a vote?”

“I’m afraid not,” Diane replied.

“This assignment gets more difficult all the time,” Dana said, and sat back to enjoy the ride.

“I’m sorry, Deputy Director, but I think we’ve got a problem.” The balding, barrel-chested man with the military bearing didn’t sound particularly apologetic, although he’d been nothing but distantly polite since Cam and Savard had arrived at the high-security federal detention center. They’d been shown into his office after minimal delay and he had appeared genuinely surprised when she gave him Early’s name. Now he withdrew a folder from a pile on his desk, opened it, and studied a list. Then, his expression grave, he said, “Martin Early is in the process of being transferred to another facility. I’m afraid you won’t be able to interview him here.”

“Where’s he going?” Cam asked calmly, although she already knew the answer.

The prison director shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. With some of these guys, we’re just providing holding services. Bed and board.”

Meaning, Cam thought, some other agency was in charge. Since the Patriot Act—designed to broaden the ability to investigate foreign terrorism—had been enacted the month before, the jurisdiction over and civil liberties of suspected domestic terrorists had become a bit cloudy. Could be coincidence that the detainee she wanted to interrogate was suddenly bound for destinations unknown, but she doubted it. And now was not the time to discover where in the tangled lines of intelligence the message had gotten out that she was interested. “I’d like to speak to whoever is in charge of his transfer.”

The prison director glanced at his watch. “I imagine they’re about ready to leave.”

Cam stood. “Please relay the message that they should wait. And have one of your people take us to them.”

“All right,” he said dubiously. “I’ll send the message, but these boys don’t necessarily listen.”

“I think they will this time,” Cam said pleasantly. Federal agents recognized chain of command even if they didn’t always play nice with other divisions. She motioned to Renee and they followed the guard who came in to escort them. He led them to the ground floor and through a myriad of hallways to the rear of the prison. Outside, a small parking lot was enclosed by twelve-foot-high concrete walls topped with razor wire, infrared cameras, and motion detectors. Two black SUVs and an unmarked black transport van idled in the lot. A young, clean-cut man in a well-fitting blue suit, white shirt, tie, and shiny black dress shoes stood outside the lead vehicle, his arms folded across his chest. He didn’t look happy. Cam walked over to him.

“I’m Deputy Director Cameron Roberts from the OHS,” she said, extending her credentials. She did not offer her hand. She tilted her head toward the windowless van. “Do you have Martin Early in there?”

“I’m not at liberty to disclose that, ma’am.”

“Can I see your ID, please.” Cam took his badge holder. It said Federal Bureau of Corrections, but she suspected he was DOD. “Agent Tomlinson, I need to interview Mr. Early on a matter of urgency. I’d like you to delay the transfer until I’m done.”

“I can’t do that, ma’am, without a direct order from my superiors. I’m sure you understand.”

He was stonewalling, as any good agent would. It might take hours to unravel the jurisdictional issues, and even that might not gain her access to the detainee. She was going to have to pull rank, and a parking lot was not the place to do it. “Where’s your destination?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m not at liberty to disclose that information.”

“I understand,” Cam said evenly. She could feel Renee tense beside her. Her number one was short on patience; they all were these days. But a brawl between agencies, especially with a midlevel agent like this, wasn’t going to get them anywhere. “We’ll be coming with you.” She turned to Renee. “Radio our driver and tell them to come around and pick us up.”

Agent Tomlinson’s eyebrows climbed above his expensive sunglasses. “I don’t have clearance for that, ma’am.”

Cam smiled. “That’s quite all right. I do.”

Chapter Ten

“Wait a minute,” Diane said to Blair and Dana as she dug in her purse. “I’ve got a call.”

The group slowed, and Dana noticed their three shadows take up position in front and behind them again. Over the last few hours, she’d almost gotten used to Hara, Wozinski, and Stark hovering just outside her direct field of vision. When she had first started walking down Fifth Avenue with Blair and Diane, she’d been acutely aware of being followed. Spending time in combat zones had made her highly vigilant and hypersensitive to anyone encroaching on her personal space, and when that someone was the size of Greg Wozinski, she was doubly uncomfortable. In fact, after twenty minutes of having him behind her—close behind her—she was irritable and jumpy. She had no idea how Blair Powell tolerated this kind of violation of her privacy twenty-four hours a day.

“Hi,” Diane said brightly when she answered the phone, “where are you? Really? You’re finally free…? No, stay there—we’re right around the corner. We’ll meet you and buy you a drink.” Diane dropped the phone back into her purse. “That was Emory. I told her we’d join her at her hotel.”

“Great,” Blair replied. “I think anything else we have to do, we can do by phone before we leave this weekend.”

Dana whispered a prayer of thanks. She’d actually had a pretty good time watching Blair and Diane shop. Just the same, the art of shopping was an acquired taste, and one she had yet to develop. When she had to attend a formal function, she went with basic black and white, figuring that would always work. Plus, black traveled well and tended not to show wrinkles even after hours, sometimes days, in a suitcase. She’d used the time between fittings and discussions to informally interview Blair Powell. A good reporter didn’t need to ask questions to learn about her subject. Mostly, she just had to listen. And watch. She’d discovered quite a bit in the last few hours, almost none of which would ever make it into her article.

Diane Bleeker, she soon ascertained, was a lot more than Blair’s close friend. Diane was a little bit in love with Blair Powell, and a whole lot protective, and the feelings seemed mutual in a completely appropriate manner. Both women were effortlessly affectionate with one another in a way that Dana had never experienced with any woman. She was envious and intrigued by their relationship and more than a little turned on. Maybe her arousal stemmed from the sheer force of being surrounded by such powerful pheromones. Or maybe she had just gone too long without the singular pleasure of losing herself in a woman. Whatever the cause, her nerves were pleasantly on edge.

They set off walking again and within a few minutes had reached the Plaza. Dana noticed a few heads turn as they made their way through the lobby toward the hotel lounge and bar. Perhaps, as Blair had said, if Blair were by herself on the street, she might go unnoticed, but three women flanked by an entourage in suits scanning the surroundings were pretty hard to miss. Blair kept her eyes straight ahead, and Dana could almost feel the shield she had erected around herself. She wondered about the cost of maintaining that kind of barrier, and thought perhaps it explained why Blair seemed so intimate with those few she let close.

“She’s over there,” Diane remarked, pointing to a seating area in the corner with several sofas and a low table.

Dana glanced idly to where Diane indicated and nearly stumbled as her gaze honed in on the woman seated there. Blair and Diane, both blond, both beautiful, exuded a sense of brilliance and heat, and being around them was much like basking in the noon sun. The woman who awaited them made Dana think of midnight on the deck of a sailboat when the sky was black velvet sprinkled with diamonds and the breeze promised forbidden pleasures. The petite woman’s shoulder-length ebony hair framed a face rendered unforgettable not by perfection but by the bold mouth and deep-set dark eyes. Her complexion held hints of the Mediterranean, adding to her undeniable allure.

“Emory,” Blair and Diane exclaimed simultaneously. The three hugged, and then Blair indicated Dana, who stood slightly outside the group, unable to take her eyes off the brunette. “Dana Barnett, Emory Constantine.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dana said, extending her hand. Dr. Emory Constantine’s chin barely came to Dana’s shoulder, and Dana had the irrational thought that they’d fit very well together in bed. Just as quickly, she banished the image and prayed Emory didn’t read minds. After all, she was supposed to be here getting Emory’s story too. Now she wouldn’t have to wait until they all gathered in Colorado to get started.

“Hello.” Emory’s voice was warm and mellow. Her gaze lingered on Dana’s for a few seconds before she turned to Blair and Diane again.

Wozinski, Hara, and Stark triangulated positions behind the grouping of sofas, and Dana realized that she stood midway between the perimeter formed by the agents and the inner circle of the three friends. She had often found herself caught between conflicting worlds—democracy and dictatorship, order and chaos, life and death. Despite being used to navigating the limbo of shifting landscapes, she had never felt as much an outsider as she did at this moment, nor been as aware of the desire to be connected. Watching Blair and Diane draw Emory into the fold of their affection, she experienced a pang of loneliness that settled in her chest and made it hard for her to breathe.

Everyone sat down, and Dana found herself next to Emory on a love seat across from Blair and Diane. A waitress appeared out of nowhere and took their orders for drinks. Dana didn’t drink much, but she ordered a beer while everyone else ordered wine. She rarely thought about her working-class upbringing, but right at this moment, surrounded by elegance and beauty, she felt the difference. Emory’s streamlined black skirt, she noticed, glided up her slender thighs when she crossed her legs. The slight whisper of pantyhose sliding over the surface of Emory’s skin made Dana’s stomach knot. She caught the barest trace of perfume, an aromatic scent that made her think of shadowed glades and sunlight dappling through a thick leafy canopy. She had the nearly irresistible urge to press her face to Emory’s neck.

“Thank God,” Dana muttered when the waitress brought their drinks. She took a long swallow of her beer and tried to distract herself from the altogether enthralling presence of Emory Constantine only inches away.

“So you’re really going to take time off,” Blair said to Emory. “I hope you’re planning to come with us when we leave on Monday.”

Emory laughed. “I didn’t pack enough for next week. I’ll have to go back to Boston first.”

“What could you possibly need at a ski resort that we can’t lend you?” Diane said.

“There’s a slight matter of you being five or six inches taller,” Emory pointed out.

Diane waved her hand in dismissal. “We’ll manage. Now that we’ve finally pried you out of your lab, we’re not letting you go back.”

“When’s the last time you had a vacation?” Blair asked.

“I travel a lot,” Emory said defensively.

Blair shook her head. “I’ve spent my life with politicians. It’s impossible to snow me with a diversionary answer like that. Vacation. Not business trip.”

“Uh…sometime last year.”

“There, see,” Diane said triumphantly. “You’re not going back to Boston. The second you do, you’ll start in on whatever it is you do and forget about coming with us.”

“I’m not going to forget that Blair is getting married,” Emory protested. She glanced at Dana with a friendly smile. “Are they this relentless with you too?”

“My situation is a little different,” Dana said, realizing that Emory didn’t know why she was there.

“Dana is a reporter, Emory,” Blair said, the slightest note of apology in her voice. “She’s covering the wedding for a Washington paper.”

“Oh.” Emory’s smile disappeared and her voice became distinctly cooler. She shifted slightly away and regarded Dana with thinly veiled suspicion. “I see.”

“Allergic to the press?” Dana asked sharply, bothered by the wall Emory had thrown up so quickly.

“Let’s just say my experiences haven’t been exactly positive,” Emory said, obviously trying to be polite. She set her wineglass down with exaggerated care, then looked regretfully at Blair. “I think I’ll have to pass on your offer to join your group this weekend.”

Blair didn’t look at Dana. “I’m sorry, Emory. I wasn’t thinking.”

“That’s quite all right. There’s no reason you should be.” Emory pushed her hair back from her face with a gesture of weariness. “Would you mind if I caught up with you later? I think I need a little time alone to unwind.”

“Of course not,” Blair said. “Promise you’ll call us later. Diane will be at my place for a while, and we were hoping you could come to dinner.”

“I’ll call.” Emory stood and gave Blair and Diane a quick hug. She nodded to Dana. “Good afternoon, Dana.”

“Well, hell,” Diane muttered as Emory hurried away. “That puts a crimp in our plans.”

Dana put her beer bottle down and stood. “I think I can take care of this for you.”

Without waiting for a reply, Dana sprinted after Emory Constantine.

“We’re turning off the interstate,” Savard reported, checking the highway signs as the SUV slowed at the bottom of the exit ramp and turned west. “Looks like a pretty small road.”

Cam stretched her legs and shook some of the tension out of her shoulders. “I imagine this caravan was attracting a bit of attention on the highway. Easier to track by air out there too.”

“Air like helicopter or air like satellite?” Savard asked.

“Satellite for sure, possibly both.” Cam checked her watch. It got dark early in the mountains, but it was still later than she had hoped. “We’re not going to make it home tonight. We’ll be lucky if we make it home tomorrow.”

“You think we’re going to Illinois?”

Cam nodded. “My guess is they’re transferring Early and whoever else is in that van to the supermax facility at Marion. The Navy base at Guantanamo isn’t ready to hold detainees yet.”

“Hell,” Savard muttered, “if we don’t talk to this guy before he goes down there, we’ll never talk to him.”

“That’s why we’re on this road trip.”

“You want me to put in a call to base about our change in plans?”

Cam did, because she wanted to get a message to Blair that she wouldn’t be home when she had planned to be. On the other hand, even though she thought Early’s transfer just when she wanted to interrogate him might be a coincidence, she wasn’t convinced of it. She also believed their communications with base were as secure as they could make them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t being monitored. For the moment, she preferred not to broadcast her plans. “Let’s wait on that for a bit.”

A few minutes later Savard looked out the window again. “Foggy out there.”

“We’re climbing through the mountains. I don’t think I’ve ever crossed them when it wasn’t.”

A beep sounded from the console built into the side panel announcing that an occupant in the front compartment wished to speak to them. Cam pushed a button. “Yes?”

“The vehicle just ahead of us is signaling they’re going to pull over.”

Cam frowned. “Can you see any sign of mechanical problem? A flat tire or engine overheating?”

“No ma’am.”

“There’s not much of a shoulder on these twisty roads. Be careful we don’t hit them.”

“Do you want us to stop, Deputy Director?”

Cam considered her options. The prisoner transport van was sandwiched between the two other SUVs. Her vehicle was fourth in line. If the agents in the vehicle behind the van were having mechanical problems, they weren’t in any danger. They had phones and were undoubtedly in contact with their superiors. On the other hand, if she stopped, she’d lose the prisoner van and the lead SUV along with her opportunity to interrogate Early. “No, go around them and pull in line behind the van.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“What do you think that’s about?” Savard asked edgily.

“I don’t know.” Cam had a prickly sensation on the back of her neck and the uncomfortable feeling that she had missed something. She pushed the button on the intercom again. “Let me know if they speed up. And be prepared, they may try to lose us.”

“Don’t worry, they won’t.”

Cam tightened her seat belt. She could tell Savard felt uneasy too. At Savard’s unspoken request, Cam nodded. “Open the floor compartment.”

Savard leaned over while Cam punched in the code to unlock the storage bin beneath Savard’s feet. At the click of the lock disengaging, Savard opened it and extracted the shotgun from the clamps that held the weapon in place. She dropped the lid back on the compartment and rested the shotgun across her knees.

“If for any reason we need to leave the—” Cam’s words were obliterated by an explosion that rocked the vehicle. The SUV swerved abruptly and Cam catapulted forward. Her seat belt abruptly stopped her motion, and she vaguely registered a bruising pain across her chest. Then she was thrown violently back against the seat as the world dissolved in a dizzying, bone-jarring revolution of screeching metal.

“Emory, wait,” Dana called. For a second, she thought Emory would ignore her, but finally Emory stopped in front of the elevators.

Dana couldn’t read her expression so she went by instinct. Emory hadn’t seemed angry a few minutes earlier, more…sad. “It usually takes longer than five minutes for someone to decide they don’t like me.”

“It’s nothing personal.” Emory shrugged and pushed the up button. “It’s occupational.”

“I figured that out.”

“I’m sorry if I appear rude,” Emory said, her attention fixed on the elevator doors. “But I’m too tired to watch what I say, especially when I’m relaxing with my friends.”

The resentment in her voice was hard to miss. “How about if I tell you everything is off the record unless we agree otherwise.”

Emory gave Dana a curious look. “I’m afraid I’ll have to insult you again, but I don’t believe you.”

“Let me guess,” Dana said, taking a chance. “You told someone something in an intimate situation and it ended up in print.”

“Close enough.”

“Then she didn’t have any scruples. I do.” Dana touched Emory lightly on the shoulder to be sure Emery was listening. “Off the record means off the record.”

Emory smiled sadly. “That’s what he said too.”

He. The disappointment hit Dana like a fist in the solar plexus, but she managed to hide her shock. “Sorry, I just assumed—”

“There’s no need to apologize.”

“Well, since we don’t have to worry about pillow talk, you should feel even safer.”

“For some reason, I don’t,” Emory said, although her expression softened. “You’re a lot smoother than he was.”

“Glad to hear it.” Dana grinned and cupped Emory’s elbow, tugging gently. “Come back and finish your wine.”

“I’m not usually this easy to persuade,” Emory said with a small frown, falling into step beside Dana.

“It’s my natural charm,” Dana joked, wondering if she imagined the slight tremor beneath her fingertips. Emory’s arm brushed hers and she knew she wasn’t imagining the pulse of arousal that settled in the pit of her stomach. A news story, even one her boss had sent her out to get, was the furthest thing from her mind. All she wanted was to get to know Emory Constantine better. A lot better.

Cam registered two things at once. Heat and the smell of something burning. The vehicle had come to rest on its side, and she was dangling in her seat belt, her weight supported by the straps across her hips and chest. Breathing in that position was difficult. “Renee! Renee, are you all right?”

“Banged up,” Savard gasped. “Nothing serious.” “Stay there until I can check you out.” Cam fumbled with the latch on her seat belt and finally opened it. She tumbled the few feet onto the door, which was now really the floor, and landed on her left shoulder. She grunted at the pain, then pushed herself to her knees just as Savard dropped next to her with a bone-crunching thud. The interior lights were out, and as she tried to see Savard, she realized that the air was a hazy red. Panic hit her hard, and for an instant, she saw her father’s limo explode in a fountain of fire. Mentally pushing the image away, she grasped Savard’s shoulder. “We have to get out of here. How’s your leg?”

“Leg’s fine.” Renee’s voice was clear and calm. “I’m okay, Commander. You think anyone’s out there?”

“We’ll have to climb out to see.” Cam pushed upright and fumbled with the door handle on what was now the roof. The first person out would be a sitting duck. “Still have the shotgun?”

In response, Renee chambered a cartridge.

“Once I’m out I’ll cover you,” Cam said. “Wait here.”

“Commander, let me go out first!”

“No.” Cam pushed up on the door with all her strength and it banged open. Cautiously she peered out, but all she could see were fingers of fire leaping into the air. A sniper could have her in his crosshairs and she’d never know. Her vehicle wasn’t on fire—at least not yet. Something else was burning close by. Although her arms were shaking, she braced herself on the open hatch, pulled herself up, and rolled over the side onto the ground. As soon as she hit, ignoring the rocks digging into her body, she pulled her pistol and put her back to the vehicle. From that position she could see a hundred and eighty degrees. All she saw was smoke. If there was anyone out there, they were well hidden. “Savard. Now. Quickly.”

A few seconds later, Savard plummeted next to Cam. “What about the guys up front?”

“Still inside.” Cam’s eyes finally adjusted to the eerie light. “Our vehicle went over the side. We’re down about fifty yards.” On her knees, she worked her way slowly toward the front of the vehicle. Another fifty yards down the slope, the van, or what she assumed had been the van, was completely engulfed in flames. “You check our escort. I’ll check the van.”

“Commander,” Savard protested, “let me go down.”

“Just watch my back, Savard.” Cam edged into the roiling clouds of black smoke. She doubted anyone was still alive in that inferno, but she had to find out. She couldn’t just stand by and watch them burn.

Chapter Eleven

“So are you going to take us up on the dinner offer?” Blair asked Emory. After Emory had returned with Dana, they’d all shared another drink, and as far as Blair could tell, Dana and Emory had made some kind of peace. Emory seemed more relaxed, and Dana couldn’t seem to look anywhere but at Emory.

“Before I say yes,” Emory said, “who’s cooking?”

“We are,” Diane said, sliding her arm around Blair’s waist. “One of our many talents.”

“Then I accept.” Emory glanced at Dana. “Are you coming?”

“Well,” Dana said hesitantly, “I’m not really sure—”

“Join us,” Blair said. Even though she wasn’t crazy about Dana’s assignment, she liked her. And Emory’s question had sounded a lot like an invitation. If Emory wanted Dana to be there, Blair wasn’t going to object. She’d felt an immediate affinity for Emory the night they’d shared the stage together at a fund-raiser that turned deadly. Even though she, Diane, and Emory had gotten close, she didn’t know a lot about her, except that she was brilliant, kind, and single. There was an ex-husband in her past, but from the way Emory had been studying Dana all night, Blair wondered what had led to the ex part.

Dana smiled at Emory. “Looks like I’ll be there.”

Emory smiled back. “Good.”

Blair stood. “Then I vote we move the party to my place.” The SUV was waiting in front of the hotel entrance, and just as Blair and the others reached the vehicle, the world took a jump into fast-forward. Wozinski grabbed the rear door and yanked it open at the same time that Hara and Stark closed in on Blair and propelled her into the vehicle.

“The rest of you, get in, now,” Stark shouted as Wozinski threw himself into the front seat and Stark started to swing the rear door closed. Diane had already followed Blair inside, and Dana grabbed Emory and pulled her in just as the door swung shut.

“What is it?” Blair exclaimed as the SUV roared away from the curb. “Paula? What is it?”

Paula shook her head, her fingers against her earpiece as if urging a message to come through. At the same time, she lifted her communicator. “Delta one, priority red. Delta one, priority red.”

The second Stark stopped speaking, Blair demanded, “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know.” Stark’s body was rigid, her expression stony.

Blair willed herself to think clearly. This wasn’t the first time she’d been in this situation. A rapid evacuation could mean almost anything—another terrorist attack anywhere in the country, a biohazard threat in the subway system, an assassination attempt on her father. Someone in a security division somewhere might simply have overreacted to an intercepted radio transmission and called for extreme protective measures without true justification. She wouldn’t know until Stark had more information, or until she could speak to Cam. Suddenly, she felt icy cold. She gripped the edges of the seat to keep her hands from shaking. “Get in touch with Cam. I want to talk to her.”

“As soon as I can,” Stark replied, still apparently screening transmissions.

Within moments, they careened into the service way behind Blair’s building. Stark unholstered her weapon. So did Hara, and both agents positioned themselves to shield the occupants when the rear door opened.

Blair glanced at her friends. Diane and Emory both appeared stunned but calm. Dana looked fiercely focused and, Blair noticed, she had angled her body so she was between Emory and Hara. If there were armed assailants waiting for them on the street, the gunmen would have to go through two people to get to Emory. Blair took in all of this almost unconsciously, the foremost thought in her mind being Cam.

Where was she? Did she know this was happening? And beneath it all, the one fear she could not allow to surface. The one impossible, unacceptable possibility that all of this was because something had happened to Cam.

“Clear,” Stark said to Hara, and opened the door. Both agents immediately jumped out, and Blair could see other members of the team fanning out around the SUV. Stark leaned in. “Ms. Powell, you first, please.”

“Come with me,” Blair said, taking Diane’s hand.

As soon as they stepped out, half a dozen agents surrounded them and in the next second, Dana and Emory followed with several more agents falling in behind. Blair didn’t bother with conversation, but half ran as the mass of bodies encircling her surged toward the building. Inside, the elevator to the penthouse was standing open and Stark directed Blair, Diane, Emory, and Dana inside. Hara and Wozinski squeezed in last. Once they were moving up, Blair let go of Diane’s hand.

“Do you know anything more?”

Grimly, Stark shook her head. “Not yet.”

The elevator doors slid open, and Blair’s heart sank. Valerie waited in the foyer, her expression grave.

“Is it Cam?” Blair asked woodenly.

“There’s been an incident. I don’t have the details.” Valerie’s gaze never wavered from Blair’s face. “Cameron signaled to secure you. You need to move inside your apartment. Now.”

Cameron signaled. Blair swayed slightly. Alive, then. She’s alive.

“How are they?” Savard croaked, choking as smoke engulfed the vehicles and completely obscured the road above them.

Cam shook her head, wiping sweat and ashes from her face. “Anyone in that van is gone. How about our people?”

“I deflated the airbags to get a look at them. The driver is unconscious, the other has at least an open fracture of his femur, maybe his pelvis.” Savard struggled to open the rear compartment of the SUV, the lower edge of which was partially buried in rocks and earth. “I need to get to the medical equipment.”

Every transport vehicle had at least rudimentary first aid supplies, although not the full complement carried when the first daughter was on board. “Leave it. We need to get these guys out of this thing before it burns.”

“All this smoke has got to be attracting attention,” Savard shouted as they made their way back to the front of the overturned SUV. “Some kind of rescue team should be here soon.”

Cam climbed up on the side of the vehicle, which was now pointing upward, and peered down into the driver’s compartment. “Assuming Agent Tomlinson doesn’t turn them away.” She gripped Savard’s arm. “I’m going inside. I’ll lift them up and you pull them out. Drag them as far away from here as you can.”

Savard frowned and started to protest, but Cam cut her off.

“I’m taller, Renee. It makes sense for me to do it.”

“Promise if it starts to burn you’ll get out.”

“We’ll have them both out by then.”

Cam dropped down into the driver’s compartment, squeezing her body between the men still strapped into their seats and the dashboard. She checked the driver’s neck for a pulse and found a thin racy thread beneath her fingertips. He was alive, but shocky. She eased her hand behind his head and checked for obvious fractures in his posterior skull and neck. She didn’t feel any open wounds or major malalignment, but as a precaution, she worked her arms out of her jacket, folded it lengthwise several times, and wrapped it around his neck. The makeshift cervical collar might not help much if he had a serious neck fracture, but letting him burn to death wasn’t an option. With his neck as protected as she could get it, she braced her shoulder against his chest and unsnapped his seat belt. With both arms underneath his, she straightened to her full height and dragged him up with her. “Can you reach inside and grab him under the arms?”

Savard leaned into the cab and gripped him. “I’ve got him if you can lift a little more.”

“Hold him.” Cam re-grabbed him around his hips and shoved upward. Between the two of them, they got him outside. Then she went back for the other one, this time carrying Savard’s jacket. She wrapped it around his thigh and pulled the arms tight to act as a splint. He moaned while she worked, but fortunately he was only semiconscious.

He mumbled something about his wife, and for a second, Cam thought about Blair. Jesus, she was going to be so scared. “Sorry, I know it hurts. Hang on. We’re going to get you out of here, and then I’ll call her for you.”

When Cam tried to lift him, she couldn’t. Her legs felt like lead and her arms were so tired, she could barely move them. She leaned her head against the windshield behind her and closed her eyes, trying to gather her strength.

“Commander! We’ve got flames under the vehicle. Get out, Commander.”

“Go,” the man in her arms mumbled. “Get out.”

Cam wrapped her arms around his chest and hugged him against her body. “Forget it. I don’t want to face your wife. If she’s anything like mine, she’s going to be pissed enough as it is.”

The man in her arms laughed, a broken sound that ended with a groan. When he spoke again, though, his voice was stronger. “I can pull myself up. Get my hands on something.”

Cam ignored the screaming pain in her shoulders and the trembling protesting muscles in her legs, and pushed up with all her strength. “Reach.” She felt him raise his arms, heard him slap his hands on metal as he gripped the edge of the opening above them. Then Savard was reaching down for him.

“Hurry,” Savard yelled as she pulled the agent out of the truck.

Winded, struggling to stay upright, Cam felt her head spinning. Tears ran from her irritated eyes, and her chest burned with each smoke-laden breath. Visibility had dropped to zero, and for a second, she wasn’t certain which way was up. Then hands dug into her shoulders.

“Commander, climb out. Now.”

Savard yanked on Cam’s shirt, and Cam grabbed the metal above her head. It was hot. Her father had been dead the instant the bomb exploded under his vehicle. She knew that, but she’d had nightmares of him burning for years after. She stepped up on the edge of the steering wheel and launched herself up and through the opening. She tumbled headfirst over the side and onto the ground, landing hard on her back. She wanted nothing more than to stay exactly where she was, except the air was barely breathable and so hot. If she stayed where she was, she wasn’t going to make it home. If she didn’t make it home, Blair would hurt. She rolled onto her stomach and started to inch away from the burning vehicle.

Blair grabbed Valerie’s arm. “What did Cam say? Valerie, what did she say?”

“Stark, secure the residence, please,” Valerie ordered.

Wordlessly, Stark unlocked Blair’s apartment door and she and Hara disappeared inside. Dana watched the apparent transfer of power, wondering who the icy blonde was. Her expression was remote, her green eyes glacially calm. And yet the air around her vibrated as if her body emitted an energy frequency no human could hear. A single word resounded in Dana’s mind. Deadly. Deadly calm. Deadly control. Deadly.

“Who is that?” Dana murmured to Emory. They stood at the outer circle of activity, although Dana didn’t for a second think they were unnoticed. She’d felt the sweep of the blonde’s eyes as they’d exited the elevator and noted the flicker of recognition when she had seen Emory. When Emory didn’t answer, Dana shot her a look. “Off the record, remember?”

“It’s not for me to say,” Emory said quietly.

“But you know her?”

Emory nodded.

“Are you okay?” Dana asked, realizing that Emory was pale. Her eyes were huge dark wells of worry.

“I never get used to it. Being pushed into a car, dragged away. I don’t know how Blair stands it.”

Dana rested her hand on Emory’s back, hoping to reassure her. “Neither do I. But she’s here with friends. That’s good.”

“Yes.”

“You’re shaking.”

Emory smiled tremulously. “It’s adrenaline. I’m all right.”

“Adrenaline. Must be why my knees are knocking.” Dana rubbed Emory’s back in a slow circle. “Looks like we can go inside.”

Stark held the door open. “Clear.”

Dana noticed that Diane Bleeker stayed near Blair, but her attention never left the woman Blair had called Valerie. Everyone moved inside.

Valerie picked up the nearest phone and spoke quietly, her back to the group. Someone turned on the room lights and drew the blinds over the windows on the far side of the room.

“I feel useless.” Dana watched Blair, who stood with her attention riveted on Valerie. Blair reminded Dana of ice statues that looked as if they might shatter if struck by a shaft of sunlight. “Jesus, isn’t there any way to find out what’s going on? It’s driving me crazy, and it’s not my lover out there.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted for your story?” Emory asked, a hint of bitterness in her voice. “The inside scoop with all the drama and pain as a bonus?”

“Is that what you think?” Dana was angry, but the pain in Emory’s eyes was so raw, her own annoyance fled. “He really hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“No, I apologize.” Emory touched Dana’s hand for an instant, then quickly pulled back as if surprised by her own actions. “You have a job to do. A great many people believe that what you do is necessary.”

“But you don’t.”

Emory shrugged. “I don’t believe the public has a right to know what it cannot process or place into context. Not when ill-informed and misguided public opinion can create wars or halt critical scientific progress.”

“And I believe it’s the responsibility of people like me to see that the public understands what’s important. Don’t you think that’s the true power of the press?”

“Perhaps, in the best of all possible worlds.” Emory shook her head. “I don’t think Blair Powell would agree that we live in the best of all possible worlds right now.”

“Give me a chance,” Dana said, not knowing why it was so important but certain that it was. “Give me a chance to prove that I won’t hurt her. Or you.”

“Don’t you mean trust you?”

“Yes,” Dana said fiercely. “Yes. Trust me.”

“I don’t know that I can do that.”

The instant Valerie was off the phone, Blair pulled her out of earshot of the others. “Tell me what you know. Whatever it is.”

“Cameron sent a coded digital signal from her cell phone to our base twenty-two minutes ago. The message directs us to secure you here, and lock down the building.”

“That’s it? You didn’t speak to her?”

“No.” Valerie paused, then added, “And I don’t think you should expect to hear anything from her anytime soon.”

Blair fought the surge of nausea. She’d been in this position before. She knew the drill. Communications were a two-way street. Almost any transmission could be diverted, tapped into, decoded. Cam would not risk a security leak in the midst of a crisis. The fact that she had contacted them at all indicated just how serious the situation was. “You can’t call her?”

“You know that I can’t.”

“Do you know where they are?” Blair glanced over at Stark, who stood just inside the door, her hands behind her back, her jaw clenched. Savard was with Cam. Just this morning, Blair had wanted Valerie to go with her. Then it would have been Diane wondering, worrying, fighting back the fear.

“No. We can’t triangulate the signal. It’s intentionally designed not to be traceable.” Valerie lowered her voice. “My feeling is that Cameron believes there’s a major security breach—either here or in Washington. She has access to her phone, which suggests she’s not being detained, and she was able to send us a message, which indicates she’s not badly injured. Both of those facts are very much in her favor.”

“But you think she’s hurt?” Blair asked.

“I don’t know that,” Valerie said firmly. “And speculation will do none of us any good. You need to trust Cameron. She’s very good.”

Blair had the urge to laugh, but it wasn’t because she found anything humorous She was struck by the absolute absurdity of discussing whether her lover might be injured or in grave danger with a woman whom she’d alternately envied and resented. “What if it were Diane out there?”

Valerie’s expression never changed. “Then if I weren’t with her, I would wish that Cameron was.”

“You believe in Cam that much?”

“Don’t you?”

Blair was taken aback by the mildly challenging tone and then answered firmly, “Yes, I do.” She knew it as the absolute truth, and in the knowing, felt her panic subside and calm take its place in the center of her being.

“Well, then,” Valerie said, “I have some calls to make. The moment I know something, I’ll tell you.”

“Thank you.” As Valerie started to turn away, Blair caught her wrist. At the question in Valerie’s eyes, she said, “I’m glad that Cam has you to rely on.”

“I’m not the only one Cameron can count on.” Valerie smiled for the first time. “She has you.”

Chapter Twelve

“How’s your leg holding up?” Cam suspected the accident and the rough terrain they’d been scrambling over were taking a toll on Savard’s barely recuperated knee. Her own body felt as if it had been run over by a truck with very large wheels, but other than being winded from breathing the hot, polluted air, she couldn’t register any serious damage. Savard had only been back to full duty a few weeks, and she probably wouldn’t admit to being injured unless she couldn’t move at all. “We need to secure the road before we call for extraction. I don’t want another team walking into this if there’s a sniper up there.”

“I’ll go,” Savard said.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I can make it, Commander. And it ought to be me.”

Cam didn’t agree with Savard’s belief that safeguarding Cam was her duty. She also didn’t believe that going up the hill was more dangerous than staying where they were. Anyone still in the area who wanted to be sure they were all dead was probably in the process of working their way down the hillside right now. They would likely approach from their flanks, not from directly ahead. The road above was probably clear, but she needed to be sure. “Go. And don’t trust anyone, no matter who they say they are. Keep your weapon at the ready and signal me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Savard disappeared into the murky gloom. The burning cars were smoldering now, generating more black greasy smoke than flame. The night was closing in around her, and Cam was suddenly aware of being in the mountains in November. It was damn cold. She was in shirtsleeves, and her trousers were soaked from crawling through snow-covered brush. She checked on the two injured agents. Both were either unconscious or asleep. They had been wearing trench coats that they’d removed in the SUV, and now both were dangerously exposed. She needed to get these men to a hospital, but she didn’t want to get them killed in her haste to save them. Savard had been gone a few minutes, long enough to have reached the road. Cam was about to start after her when a shower of rocks cascaded down the slope followed by Savard tumbling out of the darkness to land by her side.

“The road is empty, Commander. There’s no guardrail where we went over and nothing to really show that we did, except some debris on the side of the road. It’s so foggy, I don’t think the smoke is all that noticeable to any cars passing by. That’s probably why no one has shown up yet.”

“People have gone off these highways and been trapped in their vehicles for days before rescue teams ever found them,” Cam said. “Tonight, that works in our favor.” She removed her cell phone from her pocket and dialed a Washington extension. The phone was answered on the second ring. “This is Cameron Roberts. I need an alpha-level extraction team, including a med-evac helicopter. Engaging the GPS now.”

“That signal is going to light up for anyone looking for us,” Savard said when Cam disconnected.

“Let’s hope our team wins the race,” Cam said.

“How long, do you figure?”

“She’ll probably send a chopper from Langley. Maybe thirty minutes.” Cam settled down on her stomach to wait, facing upward where she could see anyone who approached from above. “Keep an eye on those guys and make sure they stay close together to conserve body warmth.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve been colder.” Cam remembered the frigid waters of the Atlantic and how very much she never wanted to be that cold again. She needed to stay alert now, because she had to be sure that the next people coming down the slope were there to take care of her injured escorts and get her and Savard out of there. She couldn’t afford to let herself get too comfortable, so maybe the bone-chilling weather wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. “You watch sectors twelve o’clock through six, I’ll take the other half.”

“I’m on it.” A minute later, Savard added, “And, Commander? You know that request I made about more fieldwork? I’d like to reconsider.”

Cam laughed, knowing that Savard wouldn’t want to be anywhere other than where she was right now. In some ways, she felt the same. This was what she was trained for. This was what it meant to live her beliefs. And if there had only been herself to consider, she wouldn’t even be particularly worried. She did not fear death, although she had no desire to die. She wanted to live a long time and share every moment she possibly could with Blair. And above all else, she wanted to spare Blair the agony she knew Blair would feel if she did not return from a mission. She couldn’t imagine losing Blair—in fact, even contemplating it was more than she could tolerate. Without taking her eyes off the murky shadows around her, she said, “Forget changing your duty request, Savard. I’m afraid you just proved you’re combat ready.”

Savard’s quiet laughter pushed back the cold and made the dark just a bit less impenetrable.

“How are you doing?” Valerie asked, joining Diane where she stood before the fireplace. Although the room hadn’t been cold, she’d asked Diane to start a fire to chase away some of the gloom. Earlier, she’d ordered the blinds closed against the possibility of outside surveillance, which had added to the claustrophobic atmosphere in Blair’s loft. Although she trusted the bulletproof glass to stop most small weapons fire, she didn’t trust it to stop a surface-to-surface missile. And it was well past time to anticipate an attack from unexpected sources.

Diane took Valerie’s hand and leaned closer to her. “I feel guilty for being glad you’re here and not out there with Cam and Renee. Isn’t that horrible?”

“No,” Valerie whispered. She wanted to hold her. She wanted to kiss her. She also wanted to tell her that everything would be all right, but she didn’t. Lies came easily to her, because altering others’ perception of reality was what she was good at. So good that few people even knew who she was. That skill had suited her very well up until now—more than once the ability to make others believe a lie had saved her life. Now, what mattered most was that Diane never doubt she was telling the truth. “When I got the emergency evac signal, I ordered Stark’s team to secure not just Blair but everyone with her because I knew the team would keep you safe too. Not strictly protocol.” She brushed a quick kiss over Diane’s hand. “But I didn’t care. I need you to be safe.”

“Do you think they’re all right?” Diane asked.

“Everything I know tells me they’re in trouble, but able to maneuver. If Cameron has any opportunity at all to gain the upper hand, she will.”

“I know it’s going to be hours, maybe days before this is resolved, and you need to be here.” Diane caressed Valerie’s face fleetingly. “But after that, I need you to come to me. Promise me that you will.”

Valerie didn’t hesitate, because this was a truth she embraced without question. “I will. I love you.”

Dana sat beside Emory on the sofa where she’d started the day twelve hours earlier and watched Diane and Valerie talking across the room. Everything about their body language said they were lovers. Interesting, that Blair’s best friend was involved with someone who was obviously high up in the chain of command.

“Is she Homeland Security?” Dana asked Emory.

Emory sipped the coffee that someone had the brilliant insight to make in large quantities. She had a feeling they were all going to need it tonight. “Do you think if you ask the question that I refused to answer previously in a slightly different way, that I’ll answer?”

“It’s not the same question. Before it was open ended—Do you know who she is?” Dana crossed her legs, balancing her ankle on her opposite knee. “Is she homeland security? is a factual question. Background. Reference. It doesn’t call for disclosure of personal information.”

“Is that line of thinking supposed to make me more comfortable around you?” Emory shook her head. “Because it doesn’t. It just sounds sneaky.”

Dana listened for censure in Emory’s tone and relaxed a little when she didn’t hear it. Emory seemed to be searching for the ground rules, something that Dana ordinarily tried to keep as vague as possible. With Emory, she didn’t want to make a mistake. She had a feeling there would be no second chances, and considering that she hadn’t even had a first chance yet, she chose her words carefully. “Usually I have to get information from people who most often don’t want to give it. The leader of a terrorist cell living in a cave in the mountains in Afghanistan wants his message to be heard, but he doesn’t want me to know the truth. He wants me to broadcast his jihad, but he doesn’t want me to know how many men he has, or who funds him, or what he intends to blow up next.” For a second, she was back in a jeep in a barren wasteland in a world so brutal that morality was sacrificed on the altar of survival. She shivered, then smiled wryly. “I’m sorry. None of that has anything to do with you.”

“You’re wrong there.” Emory shifted so her knees were touching Dana’s leg. “If we’re going to be friends, I need to understand what’s important to you. And what isn’t.”

“Are we going to be friends?”

“I don’t know.” Emory shrugged, her expression almost sad. “My aversion to reporters isn’t entirely due to…personal…experiences. I’m not exactly as popular a target as someone like Blair, but my work is controversial enough that I tend to draw a crowd.”

“You’re hassled by the press a fair amount.”

“Yes. Relentlessly, sometimes. And unfortunately, not all the reporters take an open mind to what I’m doing.”

“Tissue regeneration, right?” Dana had reviewed some but certainly not all of the voluminous articles on Emory Constantine and her controversial work on stem cell research. It was a hot-button topic with every right-to-life group, extremist religious group, and anti– genetic engineering organization.

“Considering that it’s public knowledge, yes, that’s the general term for what I do.”

Dana leaned closer. Unfortunately, as soon as she did she caught Emory’s unique scent, which totally derailed her train of thought. Now was the time to take advantage of the high emotions everyone was experiencing. Barriers were down, control shaky. People said things, did things, admitted things they wouldn’t ordinarily if they weren’t so distracted and upset. Like blood in the water, a crisis signaled the time for a reporter to strike, and strike hard. Instead, she felt herself holding back. “I’d like to talk to you about your work sometime. What you think people should know about it. What you want others to understand.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Just consider it,” Dana said. “You know the only way you’ll get public support is by making them understand how research like yours will benefit them.”

“You make it sound as if people are only interested in their own welfare.”

“Usually,” Dana said flatly, “that’s the case.”

“You’re a cynic.”

“I prefer to call it realism.” As much as she hated to do it, especially considering what she and Emory had been discussing, Dana couldn’t ignore her instincts completely. Blair Powell was alone for the first time all afternoon, and Dana had a job to do. She stood up. “Excuse me.”

Emory followed her gaze. “Doesn’t it bother you, taking advantage of other people’s pain?”

“I’m sorry that’s the way you see it,” Dana said before she walked away. All the way across the room, she could feel Emory’s eyes on her, and it hurt to know she had disappointed her. Still, she kept going until she reached Blair, who sat with her back to the room at the counter dividing the living area from the kitchen. “Excuse me, Ms. Powell, may I sit down?”

“Go ahead,” Blair said, staring at an untouched cup of coffee on the counter in front of her.

“Can I warm that up for you?”

“No thanks,” Blair said, finally angling her head to look at Dana.

Blair’s eyes were darker than Dana remembered, and she thought that was probably from the pain she felt coming off her in waves. Dana was no stranger to other people’s tragedies, and she was used to interviewing people in the midst of the agony of loss. Tonight, though, it affected her more than usual, because she already felt an affinity for the first daughter. Despite her sympathy, she still needed to know. “What’s it like? Being here, waiting, not being able to do anything?”

“You know,” Blair said contemplatively, “I don’t think anyone has ever asked me that before.” She glanced across the room at Diane and Valerie with a fond, sad smile. “Diane wants to protect me. The others do too, even when they hurt so badly themselves they’re almost dying.” She looked into Dana’s eyes. “Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

“I imagine when you’re not grateful for them caring, you hate it.”

Blair laughed bitterly. “That’s about right. And it doesn’t make me very happy to admit it. Especially to you.”

“I’m not writing this down.” Dana displayed her empty hands. “No tape recorder. But, for the record, tell me why you support your lover doing what she does.”

“That’s easy,” Blair said quietly. “The job she does is essential, and as my father says, only the best should do it.”

Dana’s heart surged, because the simple truth was always the most powerful. “Have you ever asked her to stop?”

“Yes.” Blair’s expression became distant, and Dana had a feeling she was recalling a conversation. Her smile flickered, and then settled into one of tender resignation. “I tried to make her choose between me and her duty, but she wouldn’t.”

“And you gave up trying to change her mind?”

“I love her. I think I mentioned that.”

“Yes.”

“I wouldn’t change anything about her.”

“But…”

“But I’ll never stop asking her to be careful. I’ll never stop telling her I want her to be safe. And I won’t give her up, no matter what it might cost.”

“May I quote you?” Dana asked gently.

“Ask me again when she’s home safe.”

“Commander!”

“I hear it.” Cam strained to home in on the distant but unmistakable rumble that seemed to be getting closer. With each passing second, the repetitive thump thump thump became louder. Rotors. “I think that’s our ride.”

“I sure as hell hope so, and not Tomlinson deciding to come back and check that van.”

“I doubt it. If he was part of that scene up on the highway, he’s long gone.”

A shaft of light pierced the greasy smoke overhead and swept back and forth over the ground around them. Cam shielded her eyes and tried to make out the markings on the side of the helicopter. Nothing. It least it wasn’t a TV news chopper or a local medical helicopter responding to some driver’s 911. As she suspected, cars passing along the road above probably had no idea there had even been an accident. That was just as well, because she wanted to avoid publicity. Now all she could hope was that the helicopter had been sent by Lucinda Washburn and not by whoever had decided to eliminate a potentially dangerous witness who knew way too much.

“I think they’re landing up on the road,” Savard yelled above the noise.

“Keep your weapon trained up the hill until I tell you otherwise,” Cam said, getting stiffly to her knees. Finally she pushed herself upright and started up the slope.

Within seconds, she was gone.

Chapter Thirteen

Around ten p.m., Dana finally saw her chance to talk to the enigmatic, decidedly aloof agent named Valerie. Blair, Diane, and Emory had closed ranks and were giving off we don’t want company vibes in the sitting area. Stark remained at the door, although she had moved to a chair someone had dragged over for her. Wozinski had delivered food and drinks an hour or so before, and an untouched half sandwich sat on a paper plate on the floor next to Stark. Valerie stood looking out the window through a narrow opening in the blinds. She didn’t acknowledge Dana’s presence when Dana stepped up beside her.

“We haven’t been introduced, but I imagine you know who I am,” Dana said.

“Yes,” Valerie said.

“Do you have an update on the incident that has detained the deputy director?”

“No comment.”

“How long do you think it will be before this country reorganizes its security structure enough to effectively combat terrorism?”

“No comment.”

“Creating the Office of Homeland Security looks a lot like a political maneuver to assuage public fears while justifying the surveillance of U.S. citizens on domestic territory.”

Valerie continued to watch the street as if Dana weren’t even there.

“How long have you been intimately involved with Blair Powell’s best friend?” Dana tried another tack.

Valerie turned her icy gaze on Dana. “I can have you removed from this room and permanently denied access to Blair Powell in less than a second. How much do you want to complete your assignment?”

“All right,” Dana said slowly, holding Valerie’s gaze. “I’ve been saying this a lot tonight, but off the record, how long do you think it will be before we hear anything?”

“I don’t know.” Valerie turned her attention back to the street. “The White House has a press department that handles the kinds of questions you’re asking.”

Dana laughed. “And I believe in the tooth fairy too.”

A smile flickered at the corner of Valerie’s mouth. “I’ve only allowed you to stay this long because this morning the deputy director cleared you to have unrestricted access. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be here.”

“So you’re in charge when she’s unavailable?”

“No comment.”

“Can you give me your official title?”

Silence.

“How about a last name.”

Silence.

“All right, no questions. I’ll talk.” Dana rubbed the back of her neck, calculating how many shots she might have in getting anything out of the Sphinx. “This is how I see things. There’s two teams working out of a base somewhere in this building—one is the first daughter’s Secret Service detail and the other is some kind of special OHS detachment. The deputy director heads the team of OHS people here— you’re one of them, probably second in command. There’s some kind of crossover between the two teams, because Stark is following your lead now, which is really unusual for someone in her position.” Dana thought about that for a minute. The Secret Service was notorious for not sharing responsibility for their protectees. They usually liaised with the White House press staff during advance planning for public events, but the Secret Service made all the calls on security. And yet Stark readily deferred to Valerie. Why? “Stark knows you. She trusts you. If she didn’t, she’d be fighting you every step of the way. How am I doing so far?”

“No comment.”

“I’m going to print what I see if I don’t have anything else.”

Valerie ignored her, still looking unfazed.

Dana worked her hands into her pockets and rocked back and forth, figuring the angles. “There’s only one reason for the OHS and Blair’s security team to be so entwined. I’m betting some of the OHS detachment here used to be Secret Service.” Her heart rate shot up as the pieces fell together in her mind. When that happened, it was always a rush, nearly as invigorating as the adrenaline high of danger or the orgasmic satisfaction of great sex. “Jesus Christ. Blair Powell is the focus of both teams because someone thinks the terrorists are after her.”

Valerie sighed as if in disappointment. “Writers have such active imaginations.”

“Or maybe they’ve already tried. When? When was the attempt on her?” Dana couldn’t believe the White House had kept this quiet. And now she understood why Cameron Roberts supported her being this close to Blair. Roberts was trying to limit Blair’s visibility because she was a goddamned target. Oh yeah, there was a story here all right. A hot story. Dana started away, knowing she wasn’t going to get anything out of this agent, if that’s what she was.

Valerie stopped her with a viselike grip on her arm. “If I were to think you were going to write about any of your theories, I might have to sequester you and restrict all your communications.”

Dana wasn’t all that surprised by the threat, but she hadn’t expected the complete absence of anger. Valerie No Last Name appeared to be completely unprovokeable. Even Cameron Roberts had shown some fire when Dana had pushed about Blair. This woman Valerie fascinated her. And she knew one thing for certain now. There was nowhere she wanted to be for the foreseeable future, except with Blair Powell. “I suppose it’s been a long time since you’ve read the Bill of Rights. You know, the part about freedom of the press?”

“I’m not playing games,” Valerie said easily. “Your press pass doesn’t protect you when matters of national security are at stake.”

“And who decides that?”

“I do.”

“Who’s going to decide exactly what will be on the record, other than the menu for the wedding?”

“I believe that will be up to the deputy director.” For an instant, Valerie’s cool facade shifted and Dana caught a glimpse of something dark and dangerous in her eyes before Valerie added, “When she returns.”

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Emory tugged Dana’s sleeve and pulled her away from Valerie, who immediately turned back to the window.

“Sure.” Dana followed Emory to the breakfast bar, surprised that Emory had sought her out since she was pretty certain that her talking to Blair had confirmed for Emory just how self-serving and callous she was. She slid onto one of the stools. Someone had turned the lights down so that the area was dim, giving the false impression of privacy. “Something wrong?”

“I thought I should rescue you before you got yourself into trouble.”

“Worried about me?” Dana said lightly. Ordinarily, she would be irritated by anyone trying to interfere with her work, but the little frown lines between Emory’s dark brows indicated real concern. After witnessing the passionate interconnections between Blair Powell, her friends, and those who guarded her, Dana realized just how much she wanted someone to care about her. To wonder about where she was and to worry if she didn’t come home. Maybe that was a pipe dream, but the breathless pleasure she got from the troubled look in Emory’s eyes was not a dream. The feeling was real and sweet and she wanted more of it. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a champion.”

Emory’s lips parted in pleasant surprise, and as she leaned closer she rested her hand on Dana’s thigh. “I can see what you’re doing, and you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Dana grinned. “For a scientist, you’re remarkably subtle. And at the moment, imprecise too.”

“Don’t joke. You don’t know what’s going on here, and if you push these people…” Emory shook her head. “Just do the job you came to do. Write about what a warm, wonderful woman Blair Powell is and how much she cares about her country and how much she loves her father. Write about what it costs her to be open and honest about her life with the whole world watching, and a good part of it criticizing. Write about the beautiful love between Blair Powell and Cameron Roberts.”

“I can’t just write about the things that are pretty,” Dana said. “Or easy. Or what people want to hear.”

“Blair’s life is not easy.” Emory snorted. “Believe me, there are a lot of people who don’t want to hear about Blair and Cam.”

“I know that. And I will write about her marriage. But what about what else is going on? What about the danger? Who’s after her, Emory?”

“Don’t. Please don’t go there.”

Emory’s voice was low and almost tortured and Dana had this sudden need to erase her pain. She covered Emory’s hand where it lay on her leg. “You know, don’t you? You know what’s really going on here.” Dana began mentally sorting what she knew about Emory and the things she had read about the first daughter. Blair and Diane Bleeker had been friends since they were teenagers. There had never been any mention of an acquaintance with Emory until some brief news clip about the two of them at a fund-raiser early the previous month. But from what Dana could see now, something had bonded Emory, Blair, and Diane in a powerful way. What’s more, Emory knew a lot of the inside players in the room. Valerie had recognized Emory the instant she’d stepped off the elevator. “Something happened last month, and you were there, weren’t you? When was it? In Boston? Was there an attempt on Blair’s life?” Dana had another thought and her stomach clenched. “On yours?”

“I’ve always been a private person,” Emory said as if she were talking to herself. “But I’ve never had so many secrets in my life.” She pulled her hand from beneath Dana’s and got up. “I wish you weren’t so good at what you do.”

“Emory,” Dana said urgently as Emory turned away, but Emory did not look back. Her abrupt departure left Dana feeling hollow and unspeakably lonely. For the first time ever in her life, she wished the story didn’t always come first.

“Hey,” Blair said, squatting down next to Paula’s chair. “You ought to try eating some of that sandwich. You’ve been on duty all day and it might be a long night.”

“That’s okay. I’m not hungry.”

Paula had never learned Cam’s infuriating ability to hide her pain, but Blair didn’t think Paula was any less good at her job because of it. Paula would do whatever she needed to do, even while she bled to death inside. She was bleeding now, and Blair ached for her. She understood firsthand just how hard it was to silence all the little voices that kept screaming she was going to lose what mattered most to her. But fight to silence the nightmare demons she did, and she would keep on fighting no matter what. “As soon as this is over, I want to get out of here. Tomorrow, let’s go to Colorado.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Or Sunday. That’s only moving things up a couple of days. We were going on Monday, anyhow.”

“I’ll have to clear it with the commander.”

Blair’s heart warmed to Paula’s automatic certainty that Cam would be back. “Why? You’re my security chief. Everything is set out there, right? Mac and Ellen have done all the advance work.”

“They probably have a few more simulations to run with local law enforcement and the medical evac teams, but we’ve been at full readiness since midweek.”

“There, see?” Blair grasped Paula’s arm. “We’ve been planning this for over a month. Now more than ever, Cam, and Renee too, will need to rest. I don’t care what they say. I don’t care who needs to be chased, who has to be caught, who must be punished. For a few days, they need to recover.” She leaned closer. “Or, Paula, next time someone’s going to get hurt.”

“Next time?” Paula whispered. Her gaze swept the room as she checked to make sure that no one could hear them. “Renee barely finished rehab before going on this mission. It was supposed to be an easy trip. If there’s been trouble…” Her voice broke and she clenched her fist, the muscles in her arm tightening under Blair’s hand.

“Renee will be all right. Cam would never have taken her if she didn’t think Renee could do whatever needed to be done, under any circumstances.” She gave Paula’s arm a shake. “Besides, Renee might be stubborn but she’s a professional. She wouldn’t have put herself back on active duty if she didn’t think she was ready.”

Paula smiled. “Renee’s idea of being fit for duty is a little bit different than mine.”

“Oh, bull,” Blair exclaimed. Individually, they each felt they were indestructible, but they lived with the fear that the ones they loved were not. “As I recall, you were the one who didn’t want to give up a shift even when you had a bullet hole in your shoulder.”

Stark frowned. “That’s different.”

“Right. It’s always different when it’s you.” Blair was glad to see some of the pain lift from Paula’s eyes. “So what do you say? Colorado? We’ll hit the slopes and leave all this behind?”

“As soon as I get clearance, and you know where that has to come from. Until the commander gets a handle on…” Paula paused and glanced across the room at Dana Barnett, who was studying them intently. “Your security is a joint operation for the time being, but I’ll push for us to go. You’re right, they’ll need it.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We’ll all need it.”

Cam and Savard waited until the injured men were removed from the helicopter and transferred to an ambulance, then they climbed out, keeping their heads down as the rotors whipped overhead. They’d landed in a small lot behind a mostly darkened building at Langley Air Force Base. Outside the wavering circle of light cast by the chopper’s beams, Cam saw two figures but she couldn’t make out their faces.

“By my side,” Cam said to Savard. They approached their reception committee with shoulders touching. Cam kept a grip on her holstered pistol as did Savard until she recognized Lucinda Washburn and Averill Jensen, the president’s security adviser. “Clear.”

“Who were you expecting?” Lucinda asked.

“Right about now, I’m not real sure,” Cam said.

“Do you two need medics?”

“Savard does,” Cam said.

“No, I don’t,” Savard snapped. She glanced at Cam. “Ma’am.”

Lucinda, dressed in low heels, a dark skirt and jacket, and a silk blouse, looked as if she’d just stepped out of her office rather than out of the helicopter she had probably taken to get from Washington to Langley after Cam signaled her. “You’re sure? Because it’s going to take most of the night to debrief you.”

Cam looked at Savard. “Is there anything wrong with you that a gallon of coffee won’t cure?”

“I’m fine, Commander.”

“We’re good to go,” Cam said to Lucinda. “After I make a phone call. And we both need showers. We’re covered with ash and smoke.”

“The showers we can provide,” the president’s security adviser said, “but I don’t think a call is advisable until we have a better handle on exactly what happened.”

“I wasn’t making a request.” As Cam started toward the building with Savard by her side, she pulled out her cell phone.

Matheson put his book aside and picked up his cell phone, surprised at the unexpected call. Only a very few people had this number, and he changed phones every few days. His surprise turned to concern when he didn’t recognize the caller’s number. He contemplated not answering for a few seconds, and then decided a brief response would be safe. If he sensed trouble he could hang up before anyone had a chance to trace his location.

“Hello?”

“Hello, my good friend. I believe we have some business to discuss, do we not?” a man said in heavily accented but perfect English.

“I’m always happy to assist a friend, although I don’t remember any further bus—”

“Recent events have altered our thinking about the value of certain items. Perhaps we can choose a convenient time and place to confer.”

Matheson checked his watch. Still a little more time. “Of course, of course. I’ll have my second contact you with details.”

“Thank you, my friend.” There was a pause. “Do not delay.”

The caller disconnected and Matheson considered his alliance with the men whom under other circumstances he would consider enemies. The enemies of his enemy had become his friends. God did work in mysterious ways.

Chapter Fourteen

Blair’s and Paula’s cell phones rang simultaneously in stereo, and Blair saw the same mixture of hope and uncertainty flash across Paula’s face that rushed through her. She yanked her phone off her waist. “Cam?”

“Everything’s okay,” Cam said quickly. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”

Late? She’s worried about being late? Blair would have laughed— or cried—at the absurdity, but she knew Cam meant it with her whole heart. Turning her back to the room, Blair lowered her voice and cradled the phone in her palm as if it were Cam’s face. She wanted to touch her so badly and refused to think about how long it might be before she could. Only one thing really mattered at this moment. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Cam said firmly. “No, we’re both all right.”

“How long can you talk?” Blair heard her own voice and was amazed at how calm she sounded. Inside, she shook with the release of hours of tension and fear. She wanted to say, Come home, now. I need you. She knew that wasn’t possible. She knew, but that didn’t ease the ache in her chest.

“I’ve just got a minute.” Cam sounded apologetic. “Are you okay?”

“Better now.” Blair took a breath, the first unhindered pain-free breath she’d taken in hours. “When will you be home?”

“I don’t know yet. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Lonely.”

“Me too,” Cam said softly. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“I know. Are you sure you’re safe?”

“Yes. Are you with friends?”

“Everyone’s here. Everything’s under control.” Blair knew better than to ask where Cam was, or about what had happened, or who she was with. All those questions would have to wait. She had what she needed most. Cam was unhurt and out of danger and coming home. “You sound hoarse.”

Cam coughed, clearing her throat. “Maybe a little scratchy. No problem.”

“You’re not hurt?” The last time Cam had sounded this way someone had tried to kill her. The idea of someone physically assaulting her lover made her ill. The reality haunted her dreams and stalked her waking moments. “Darling?”

“No. There was…some smoke.”

Blair sighed. Cam would try to keep the details from her, not because Cam didn’t trust her, but because she didn’t want to worry her. And Blair would force it out of her, not just because she needed to know what monsters lurked, waiting to destroy her world, but because Cam needed to talk so the monsters wouldn’t slowly destroy her. “Later about that, then, Roberts.”

Cam laughed. “Okay, baby.”

“Can you tell everyone to get out of our apartment now?”

“Soon. Not tonight, though. Not until I have a better handle on the incident.”

The incident. The event. The operation. The mission. Code words for danger. Euphemisms for death. “I’m not going anywhere until you get home, but I’ve about had it. Which means you need to get your ass back here.”

“I will. Just as soon as I can. I promise.”

“And no side trips.” Cam would know she meant that whatever retaliation might be necessary, she didn’t want Cam to be part of it. There were agents trained to do what needed to be done—Cam did not have to be the first on the scene any longer. When the silence stretched longer than a few seconds, Blair said, “Do you hear me?”

“I’ll do my best, baby.”

And Blair knew that was all she could ask. “Come home soon. I miss you.”

A silent female lieutenant waited inside the locker room while Cam and Savard showered. She provided them with black military-issue BDUs and T-shirts and then escorted them to a small, drab conference room with a table that seated twelve, an outdated pull-down projection screen at one end of the room, and a coffee cart with a huge urn that Cam hoped was filled with hot coffee at the other end. Lucinda sat at one end of the conference table with Averill Jensen.

“You two are looking a little better,” Lucinda said.

“We’re good to go,” Cam said.

The lieutenant stepped out into the hall and closed the door, leaving the four of them alone. Cam tested the urn with her hand, grunted in pleasure when she felt the heat, and searched the metal cabinet beneath the cart for cups. She filled a Styrofoam cup with coffee and handed it to Savard, then got her own. Savard followed her when she sat down at the conference table.

“What happened?” Lucinda asked.

Cam gave a recap of the events. “I don’t suppose you two have anything to add?”

Jensen look surprised. “Like what?”

“Like whether or not this was a sanctioned neutralization?”

Lucinda glanced at Jensen, eyes narrowed. “Averill?”

“No,” he said, sounding defensive. “Why would you ask? Isn’t it obvious that Matheson or one of the other patriot organizers was trying to eliminate Early before he could identify them or disclose other vital information about their operations?”

“It’s never wise to accept the obvious,” Cam said quietly, watching Jensen carefully. Lucinda Washburn and Andrew Powell she trusted unequivocally, but they were the only two she could say that about other than Blair and the members of her team. Jensen she didn’t know that well. “How many people knew we were planning to interrogate Early today?”

Now Jensen turned in his seat and looked to Lucinda for help. Lucinda shook her head and said, “Nothing happens in a vacuum, and there is no such thing as airtight security. You know that better than anyone. The minute you get in a cab, someone knows about it. Flights had to be arranged, the local office in Virginia was contacted for an escort, the prison commander was advised that you were coming. No one knew you were going to see Early, at least not that I’m aware of.”

“How many other detainees from Matheson’s compound are being held there?” Cam asked.

Lucinda grimaced. “I don’t know, and for some reason, I can’t find out. No one seems to know. Everyone who should know claims not to.”

“Bureaucratic snafu or intentional lockdown on information?”

“I wish I knew that too,” Lucinda said, obviously frustrated. She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. “Listen, Cameron. I don’t know who blew that van off the highway. Right now, we don’t even know how they did it. Have any thoughts on that?”

“It might have been a car bomb triggered by a radio signal,” Cam said, “but judging by what happened out in the Atlantic last month, it could just as easily be a surface-to-surface missile again. You’ve got a team looking at the wreckage out there now, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Unfortunately,” Savard put in, “I don’t think discovering the how is going to tell us anything about the who. Almost anyone can get military ordnance these days—foreign terrorists, domestic militants, your average Joe Survivalist down the street.”

“Agreed,” Cam said. “What we need to concentrate on is who wanted Early dead.”

“I would think Matheson would be at the head of that list,” Lucinda said grimly.

“Possibly,” Cam said, far from certain. Matheson had eyes and ears in high places, that was clear. She didn’t believe for a second that Valerie’s handler was the only person in the Company with ties to Matheson. Operations like Matheson’s didn’t go undetected without more than a few people helping to keep it quiet. Every security branch had its share of hawks and superpatriots who believed that the end justified any means, if the end was preserving national supremacy. Such people were not above aiding militants, funding false flag operations designed to incite public support for armed retaliation, even orchestrating the assassination of political figures. “If Early had close ties to Matheson and was privy to things certain people didn’t want him talking about, it might not have been Matheson who wanted him out of the way.”

Lucinda’s face hardened. “You’re talking about someone on the inside, one of us.”

“On the inside, maybe,” Cam said grimly. “But not one of us.”

“But those were federal agents driving that prison van,” Savard protested. “No one inside would…”

“Collateral damage.” Cam leaned back, suddenly more tired than she’d realized.

“The SUV ahead of us pulled over right before the prison van was hit,” Savard said, her disbelief turning to fury. “If we hadn’t been there, there would have been a clear shot at the van and both the lead car and the follow car would have been out of the blast zone. But then we pulled in behind the van and drove right into the field of fire!”

“That’s my read too,” Cam said, rubbing at the tension between her eyes.

Averill Jensen squared the empty pad of paper in front of him. He had uncapped his pen earlier as if he were going to take notes, but had written nothing down. “We’ll do everything we can from our end to trace the leak, if there was one. There won’t be a paper trail, but calls were made.”

Cam shrugged. “It has to be done, but it could take weeks. I think we simply have to assume that none of our communications are secure.” She looked pointedly at Lucinda. “Not even in and out of your office.”

“Where does this put us in terms of tracking down Matheson?” Lucinda asked.

“About where we were before,” Cam said. “My people are combing personal histories, electronic data, reports from FBI and ATF agents inside the patriot organizations, looking for connections.” The dull throb between her eyes accelerated to a full-blown headache. “We’re monitoring known cells, tracking targets on watch lists.”

“He’s running circles around us,” Averill said bitterly.

Cam eyed him coldly. “Almost twenty men, none of them nationals, entered this country over a period of several years, established identities, trained on flight simulators, and managed to pull off an orchestrated terrorist attack without the combined power of all the security agencies in this country being able to detect them. Finding one U.S. citizen who has spent his entire life preparing to go into hiding is going to take plain old grunt work and a hell of a lot of luck.”

“You don’t think we’ll get him,” Lucinda said wearily.

“Oh, we’ll get him,” Cam said, “because we won’t quit until we do.” What she didn’t say, what she refused to think about, was what he might do first.

Blair felt all the eyes in the room on her as she walked over to Paula. “Let’s compare notes.”

Stark smiled, but she looked worried. “Everything’s fine, nobody’s hurt, and it was just a little unexpected detour. Does that fit with your version?”

“Pretty much. Did Renee sound okay?”

“She sounded pumped.” Stark laughed briefly. “There’s a reason she went into the FBI and I went into the Secret Service. She wants to chase bad guys, clean up the streets, strike a blow for justice. Me, I want to see that those responsible for justice stay safe. I don’t need the rush like she does.”

Blair squeezed Paula’s shoulder. “She’s no cowboy. Neither is Cam. But I know what you mean. I got the same story you did, pretty much. Cam did tell me that Renee was okay.”

“Renee told me the commander was okay too.”

“Then I guess we can assume they’re both walking and talking.” Blair closed her eyes for a second. “You should take a break now. You’ve been on duty all day.”

Paula glanced across the room at Valerie, who stood apart from Blair’s friends talking on her cell phone. “I’m too keyed up to sleep right now.”

Blair knew she should sleep, but the bed would be too cold and empty and her mind too filled with unwelcome images of what life might have been like had things turned out differently. She announced to the room at large, “I’m going to work. Diane, Emory, you’re welcome to stay here tonight. The guest room is empty and—”

“Actually,” Valerie interrupted, “for the time being, everyone is staying here. The deputy director feels that the situation is still too unstable to decentralize our personnel, and she doesn’t want anyone left unguarded. So I suggest you all get comfortable for the night.”

Blair joined her friends while Valerie walked over to converse with Stark. “There’s food in the refrigerator and wine in the cooler under the counter. Diane, you know where all my clothes are. You and Emory can grab whatever you need.”

“I’ve got an empty guest room in my quarters,” Dana offered.

“Now that’s a lovely invitation,” Diane said playfully, “but I’m going to have to turn it down.” She raised an eyebrow in Emory’s direction. “Why don’t you take her up on it?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Blair said, when Emory didn’t answer. “We’re all here until at least tomorrow, so everyone might as well be comfortable.”

Emory shrugged, avoiding Dana’s gaze. “Sure, makes sense.” She hugged Blair and whispered, “I’m so glad she’s okay.”

Blair returned the embrace. “So am I. Thanks for being here. And you are definitely not going back to Boston now.”

“I surrender.” Emory laughed. “One of the many advantages of living with my mother is when I’m traveling and forget something, she can send it to me. I’ll have her ship what I need out to the resort. That way, when everyone’s ready to leave, I can go with you.”

“Excellent,” Blair and Diane said simultaneously. Dana, Blair noticed, had a particularly pleased glint in her eye.

“The bedroom is down that way,” Dana said, pointing as she closed the door to the apartment. “Bathroom also. I didn’t have time to stock the kitchen, but there’s coffee, soda, and some snacks in the cabinet.”

“I’m not hungry, thanks,” Emory said, holding the bundle of clothes she’d borrowed from Blair in her arms.

Dana leaned back against the door, giving Emory as much space as she could. Emory looked tired and a little anxious. “Do I make you nervous?”

“No,” Emory said in surprise. “Why would you?”

“Well, there’s the reporter thing.”

“That’s doesn’t make me nervous. It just annoys me.”

“What about me being a lesbian?”

Emory stared, then burst out laughing. For a second, she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stop. The entire day had had an atmosphere of unreality. She’d started out in a meeting with four uptight potential foundation donors who had the scientific knowledge of a colony of ants. It had taken her two hours just to explain what her research was all about and another two to convince them that it was worthy of their exalted contributions. Then she’d discovered that her friends had brought the enemy into their midst in the person of Dana Barnett, and try as she might, she couldn’t really bring herself to dislike her. In fact, she felt an unexpected attraction to her—or at least to her dogged determination and her absolute, unshakable sense of purpose. Then she’d been whisked out of the hotel and thrown into the midst of Blair and Paula’s nightmare, where she’d spent hours feeling alternately enraged and helpless. Now Dana was suggesting she might be worried about something as harmless as her making a pass? “In case you haven’t noticed, some of my best friends are lesbians.”

Dana grinned. “This is probably the only time I’ve ever heard that cliché when it is so not a cliché. But your best friends are, like, girlfriends.” Her eyes grew smoky. “I’m not.”

“Do you intend to seduce me?”

Dana’s heart nearly stuttered to a stop, then raced so fast she was breathless. She hoped she still looked cool and collected, because her temperature had just shot up over the boiling point. “Do you want me to?”

Emory hesitated, suddenly wanting to be very very clear. Dana watched her as if her next words were the most important words Dana would ever hear. Did she want Dana to seduce her? Was she inviting her to? The idea of being with a woman wasn’t foreign to her—how could it be, when Blair and Diane had become her friends so quickly and so deeply. She’d felt attraction to women now and then throughout her life, but the pull had never been overwhelming. She had written the fleeting feelings off as being perfectly natural and had always assumed she was heterosexual, until she married a man for whom she soon discovered she had no particular passion. What had surprised her most about her marriage was that she yearned for more. Their eventual divorce had been mutually agreeable and completely amicable, even though what underlay her discontent eluded her. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Dana tried to appear relaxed while every muscle in her body was vibrating. She wanted to cross the few feet between them and take Emory’s face in her hands. She wanted to kiss her, very gently and very thoroughly. She wanted Emory to say yes.

“I feel like I’ve given you the wrong impression.”

“You haven’t.” Dana smiled wryly. “You’ve been crystal clear about your opinion of me.”

“We’re not talking about you being a reporter,” Emory said.

“Sure we are.” With another woman, Dana might not have pressed the point, but Emory wasn’t just any woman. “I’m a reporter, and you might forget it for a few hours, but it will be there in the morning. It will be there between us the next time I ask Blair Powell a question you think will hurt her. It will be there when you confide in me and then wonder if you can trust me.”

“You’re right. I must be more tired than I thought to have forgotten that.” Emory ignored the pang of disappointment, and secretly thanked Dana for being honest and more realistic than she was apparently capable of being at the moment. “I’m going to go take a shower and then go to bed.”

“Good night, then,” Dana said.

“Good night.” Emory started down the hall and then slowed to look back over her shoulder. Her smile was a little sad. “You don’t have to stay out there, you know. I trust you not to seduce me.”

Dana pushed away from the door and followed her, wondering why she had not taken advantage of what she had seen in Emory’s eyes. For a moment, there had been both vulnerability and desire.

Chapter Fifteen

Before dawn, Saturday

Dana awoke to the soft sound of footsteps in the hall outside her bedroom. She wondered if Emory had had as much difficulty falling asleep the night before as she had. Knowing that only a thin wall and her own reluctance separated them had kept her in a hot sweat for hours while her conscience warred with her body. Rationally, she knew that one wrong step would destroy any chance she had of any kind of relationship, even friendship, with Emory. But her libido taunted her for being a coward and not taking advantage of the hesitation she’d seen in Emory’s eyes. For a long time she had stared into the dark, her skin as hot as it had ever been under the desert sun, her nerves jangling with the anticipation of incoming mortar fire, while she debated knocking on the bedroom door next to hers. She’d never been as aware of a woman she hadn’t even kissed.

Finally she had fallen asleep and dreamed of shells bursting in a moonless sky, raining fire down on an earth that shuddered under the onslaught of exploding mortar rounds until the sound of Emory’s movement outside her closed door had pulled her from the midst of battle. Dana swung her legs over the side of the bed and scrubbed her hands over her face. She’d gone to sleep as usual in a T-shirt and boxers, both of which were damp now. She cocked an ear but heard nothing, the apartment as quiet as if she were alone. Maybe she was. Maybe Emory had gone upstairs to see her friends. Maybe she’d decided not to stay after all and was on her way uptown to her hotel.

Dana bounded from bed and was ridiculously relieved when she opened her door to see light coming from the other end of the apartment. She walked down the hall and discovered Emory sitting at the kitchen table staring at Dana’s computer.

“You’re up early,” Dana said.

Emory regarded Dana as she stood at the end of the hallway. Her dark hair was disheveled and her face pale beneath her tan. Her nondescript gray T-shirt clung to her torso, damp in places with sweat. Her arms and legs, her whole body, was lean and tight. She wasn’t beautiful, not in an ordinary way, but she was nevertheless breathtaking.

“I woke you. I’m sorry,” Emory said.

“No.” Dana’s voice was brittle with fatigue. “I got thirsty.” She made her way to the refrigerator and pulled out a can of soda. She held it up. “Want one?”

“No, thanks.”

Dana leaned against the counter and sipped the soda. Barefoot, Emory wore a white ribbed tank top and loose navy sweatpants. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and it was obvious. Although petite, her breasts were full with a hint of dark nipples beneath the white cotton. In the desert, Dana had gotten used to seeing women and men in various states of undress, and although she might notice a woman’s attractive body, it hadn’t made her throb the way looking at Emory did. She had to concentrate not to reach down and pull her boxers away from her suddenly very sensitive flesh. Aware that Emory was watching her, she asked, “Are you okay?”

Emory drew one foot up onto the chair and wrapped her arms around her knee. “Restless. I didn’t think I was going to fall asleep, I was so keyed up, and when I did…” She shrugged.