Honor 02 - Honor Bound Page 7

  Blair laughed, but there was pain in her eyes. She shook her head ruefully. "So would I."

  "So what happened?" Diane asked. She tried to remember the last time she had seen Blair so hurt, and couldn't.

  Blair pushed back in her chair, running both hands through her hair, sighing. "She needed to go back to DC, and I had to leave the country. We talked on the phone, planned to meet as soon as we could."

  She stood, walked to the small window that looked down upon the street. The nondescript black sedan bristling with antennae on the rear trunk that screamed 'undercover car' was still parked opposite the entrance to Diane's building. She could make out a shadowy figure in the front seat. Probably Stark by now. She wondered where Cam was, if she had slept.

  "We knew it would be hard, but I thought --," her voice trailed off as she recalled their last conversation before parting. I thought we agreed she couldn't be on my detail. I thought we were going to work out a way to see each other. I thought she cared.

  "So, what happened?" Diane asked from behind her, persisting gently.

  Blair didn't turn, just kept looking off into the perfect spring morning, not seeing a thing. "The next time I saw her, she was at my door - and back on the job."

  "Just like that?" Diane sounded incredulous. It didn't seem like Cam's style. She'd always impressed Diane with her regard for Blair's feelings, even when she was pissing Blair off by insisting that she follow orders. She must have known how devastated Blair would be to be left out of that kind of decision, something that affected her so personally. Blair's trust was so fragile, and Cameron Roberts simply didn't seem that cruel.

  Blair finally left the window, stalked to the counter, grimaced when she found the coffee pot empty. "Yes. Just exactly like that."

  Diane wanted to ask more, but the moment had passed. Blair's fury had returned, and in a way, Diane much preferred it to the pain. At least Blair had learned to survive with her rage. She wondered if Cameron Roberts had any idea how impossible Blair would be to control when she was not only angry, but wounded.

  Chapter eleven

  "Stark just radioed her position, Commander," Mac said when Cam walked over to the communications station at command central. "Egret is en route to the aerie."

  "Good," Cam responded, glancing at her watch. "It's almost 1100 hours. I'll inform her of the security changes at my scheduled 1300 briefing with her. Would you confirm that meeting time with her upon arrival, please."

  "Will do." He studied her as she stood glancing at the monitors, trying to read her mood. He couldn't miss the undercurrent of strain in her voice, but he supposed it could just be due to the sudden escalation of the situation with Lover Boy. Considering the recent revelations concerning the ongoing covert FBI task force, anyone else would have been raging about the outside interference and the infringement on their authority, but she looked just like she always did. Calm and controlled. Too calm, maybe. The kind of utter stillness you feel just before the bomb explodes.

  "You can page me if you need me before then," she said, turning to leave. She needed to run off some tension. She had a splitting headache, which she attributed to her uneasy sleep. She didn't want to consider that the pounding ache behind her eyes might be due to the fact that she couldn't stop wondering if Blair had slept alone the night before.

  As she turned to leave, Mac muttered, "Uh oh, this looks like trouble."

  She turned back suddenly to the monitors, her heart racing. "What have we got?" She followed his eyes to the central screen that gave a view of the building's double entrance doors and the doorman's desk just to one side in the lobby. Taylor, on day shift, could be seen checking the identification of two individuals, one of whom she recognized immediately.

  "Here come the cavalry," she complained under her breath. She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Contact Stark and tell her I want her up here ASAP. Then bring our visitors back to the conference room. Get someone to take over out here for you."

  "Yes ma'am," Mac said as he watched the man and woman cross the lobby toward the elevators. He had an almost irresistible urge to stand outside the door of the command center and bare his teeth. The first major battle of the turf war was about to begin.

  "This is Special Agent Renee Savard," Patrick Doyle said officiously, indicating the woman with him. "She'll be assigned as personal guard to Egret until further notice."

  Cam sensed Stark stiffen next to her. She commended her restraint but expected no less of her. She regarded Doyle implacably, happy to see that he was beginning to perspire. Her voice was totally even as she responded, "I have a full complement of experienced agents, Agent Doyle. Agent Stark is currently functioning as Egret's primary guard. I don't need anyone else."

  Mac kept his mouth shut, watching the volleys flow back and forth across the table between the two senior agents. It'd been like this for the last thirty minutes, ever since SAC Doyle had arrived to 'inform' the Commander about the reorganization of Egret's security detail. It was clear that Doyle didn't have carte blanche from the security chief in DC, or he just would've walked in and taken command. But he was trying to bully his way to the top anyway. The Commander had been cool and composed and unyielding as stone. She hadn't given one inch, and he thought Doyle was starting to crack from sheer frustration. The guy clearly wasn't used to playing hardball.

  "Look, Roberts," Doyle grated, his fists clenched on the stack of folders in front of him, "I can't run the task force effectively without an inside agent."

  "You've been running it for months without one," Cam observed mildly, "although, as you say, not particularly effectively." She was still incensed that he had had the arrogance to keep the Secret Service on the outside when Blair was in imminent danger. On the other hand, she needed his intelligence as much as he needed her access. Her game, her rules, however. "I'll be happy to have Agent Savard come on board as a liaison. She cannot, however, function as Egret's security. She's not trained for it, and I don't know her."

  Across from her, Doyle flushed. Next to him, the striking coffee- skinned woman lifted piercing blue eyes to Cam's with a flicker of anger. Cam continued, unperturbed. "In return, I expect daily briefings pertaining to any new information you might have."

  "Are you suggesting that an FBI agent can't be trusted to secure the President's daughter?" Doyle demanded angrily, half-rising from his seat.

  Cam stood, gathering her papers. She glanced at Doyle casually. "I don't know how an FBI agent would react if Egret's life were at stake. I do know how every one of my people would respond. This isn't the time for on-the-job training."

  "With respect, Commander," Renee Savard said forcefully, "I am fully prepared to assume responsibility for Egret's safety. I would like the opportunity to carry out my assignment."

  Cam studied her, impressed by her composure when it was clear that she was insulted. Still, this wasn't about personal feelings. This was about the willingness of one person to die for another. Secret Service agents were carefully screened and extensively tested to determine their psychological willingness to sacrifice themselves for an individual, or in many cases, an ideology. For better or for worse, this was what it took to do the job they did. The FBI and the Secret Service were not interchangeable, and she would not relax her requirements now, when the possibility of sacrifice was more than probable.

  "Your request is duly noted, Agent. However, Agent Stark is primary on Egret's detail. If she can find a way for you to assist her, that's fine. And that's the best I can do for you."

  She turned around and walked out, leaving the two Secret Service agents and the two FBI agents measuring one another across the expanse of the conference table.

  "I want a close-up look at your surveillance system and an overview of your tactical routines," Doyle finally demanded of Mac, trying to regain some semblance of dominance.

  Mac stood politely, taking a page from his commander's book, and said, "I can show you the relay station and the closed-circuit monitors. Right t
his way." He ignored Doyle's hard stare and his obvious displeasure. He wasn't going to offer any information on their video camera placement, building motion sensors, advance site preparation protocols or anything else without the Commander's clearance.

  Stark and Savard sat in silence for a moment. Start considered any number of options, including her preference, which was to stick Savard with Mac in the control room. She was still smarting from the fact that she had been the object of an internal FBI review and had actually been considered a suspect in the shooting that almost killed her commander. She was also struggling with her own guilt over the fact that she had allowed Egret to unwittingly place herself in danger by eluding their surveillance. She needed to make amends, if to no one other than herself, and she wasn't going to miss her opportunity to do that. She didn't want any interference from the FBI.

  "I'm not trying to take your job," Savard said, surprising Stark with her bluntness. "I'm just trying to do mine."

  Stark blushed, wishing that she were better at hiding her feelings. She envied the Commander her ability to keep all of her feelings inside, something she had not yet learned to do. She regarded the other woman steadily, thinking that she didn't quite fit the standard FBI mold. She wore the requisite navy blue jacket and slacks, with a tailored pale blue shirt and the hint of a bulge over her left hip where her weapon was holstered. Cross draw , Stark thought absently. She was fit looking and projected an air of confidence, but Stark would've expected that as well. What she hadn't expected was the challenge in her intense blue eyes that was surprisingly without malice. She also couldn't help noticing that Savard was beautiful, beautiful in the way that cover models were beautiful, with elegant cheekbones and an exotic expression that suggested the Islands lingered somewhere not far in her background. Stark tried not to think about that as she answered, "My job is to safeguard the President's daughter. I'm not sure what your job is supposed to be."

  "My job is to apprehend Lover Boy. Since Egret is what we have in common, I suggest we try to work together."

  "I already have a partner," Stark said, but her resistance was wavering. It was hard not to respond to Renee Savard's compelling directness. "But there's room for a third," she finally relented, "as long as you don't interfere with me doing my job."

  Renee Savard studied her opposite number. She envied Paula Stark. It was clear that Stark's formidable commander respected her abilities and awarded her with the appropriate responsibility. She wished very much that she could expect the same from Patrick Doyle, but she certainly didn't count on it. She had to admit, she also liked the way the dark haired, feisty young agent tilted her chin in a faintly aggressive posture as she staked out her territory. Under other circumstances, she might have considered her cute.

  "That seems fair to me," Savard said, standing and extending her hand across the table. "Looking forward to working with you, Agent Stark."

  Chapter twelve

  "Is Egret in the aerie?" Cam asked the agent who was simultaneously watching a bank of six monitors displaying strategic points throughout the apartment building and running a real-time video of the previous twelve hours that had been captured by the cameras mounted at each corner of the external perimeter. He was able to view foot and vehicular traffic directly in front of the building for any time and from almost any direction he chose.

  Without taking his eyes off the screens, he answered, "No ma'am. She went upstairs briefly and then directly into the park."

  Cam glanced at the far upper-right monitor that showed a panoramic view of Gramercy Park, the block-wide private park across the street from Blair's apartment building. It was surrounded by towering pre-war buildings and completely enclosed with a high wrought-iron fence. She couldn't actually make visual contact with Blair, the foliage was too dense to permit that. Nevertheless, she looked for her.

  "That's where I'll be," she finally said.

  "Roger that," he said, making a note on his handheld personal unit about something he had seen on the video that he wanted to review from a different angle.

  Cam was very much aware that Patrick Doyle was still on site, but she had absolutely no intention of being his tour guide. She had work to do, and her most immediate duty was to inform Blair that she could expect several new faces in her security detail. Unfortunately, that was the least difficult of the topics they needed to discuss.

  She let herself into the park by unlocking one of the gates that permitted access to those with clearance and a key. The park was nearly small enough to see across. At the midpoint, in front of a small fountain, she could make out John Fielding. He was standing, statue-like, to all appearances staring vacantly into space. She knew, however, that he held Egret within his sight line and was in all likelihood turning at regular intervals to keep the entire square under careful watch. There was no way for a Secret Service agent to be unseen, and under some circumstances invisibility wasn't even desirable. The visible presence of a bodyguard was often enough to deter people from casual approach. On the other hand, Blair, like most in her position, understandably did not want every moment of her personal life witnessed. Because of that, the Secret Service agents were trained to walk a fine line between doing their job and actually impairing the lifestyle of those they guarded.

  As Cam walked forward, she nodded briefly in his direction and he acknowledged her with an almost imperceptible motion of his head. She continued past him along a small gravel path flanked at discrete intervals by iron and wood benches to one of the most secluded and idyllic corners of the park. A riot of shrubs and flowers grew everywhere, a natural barrier offering privacy. Enough sunlight filtered through the overhead branches to outline Blair in a pale flickering glow.

  Cam slowed as she approached, telling herself that she did not want to startle her. Actually, she wanted a few extra seconds just to observe her unaware. Blair was bent over a sketchpad, her legs drawn up under her on the bench. Her hair was loose, a tawny riot of curls reaching almost down to her shoulders. Cam knew how those tresses felt, flowing silken over her hands as she kissed her.

  She was wearing a sleeveless shirt that exposed her arms, muscled from hours in the gym and tanned from the sun. She was striking in any lighting, remarkable in any pose, but never as much as when she was lost in her work. That was perhaps the only time, except after making love, when Cam had ever seen her at peace.

  "Ms. Powell," Cam said quietly.

  Blair lifted her hair away from her face with one hand and looked at the taller woman standing nearby. The sunlight was behind her, casting Cam's face in shadows. "Good afternoon, Commander."

  "Am I disturbing you?"

  Blair gestured to the bench beside her. "No."

  Cam sat down, barely suppressing a sigh as she leaned back, warmed by Blair's presence as much as the afternoon sun.

  "You wanted to speak to me?" Blair asked, knowing that she sounded stiff and formal, but unable to help it. It was so hard to be near her and pretend that there was nothing between them. It was even harder when she could see how weary Cam was. She was still angry with her - angry and hurt - but when she looked at her, she wanted to pull her down against her shoulder and stroke her. She pushed the image away with irritation. If Cam had needed that, needed her at all, she would never have let this happen. Besides, it wasn't what she wanted to happen either - this almost paralyzing ache that never seemed to lessen unless Cam was near. She had never wanted that, not with anyone. Ever since they had slept together, ever since she had allowed herself to hope, being near her had become something very close to constant pain. "More good news?" she asked again sarcastically.

  "The FBI made an official appearance this morning," Cam began, watching the light play through the leaves of the trees above them. Blair was inches away, but she felt as if their skin touched along the length of her body. She knew it was only visceral memory, but the sensation was so acute that her blood was racing. She wondered how long it would be before she could be close to her and not respond. She feared th
at it would be a very long time.

  "I take it you're not pleased," Blair said, wondering at Cam's odd stillness.

  "That, Ms. Powell, is considered classified information. According to any number of sections in the manual, personal observations on internal matters should not be shared, especially with civilians," Cam said lightly, a half smile on her face. Her eyes, however, were wintry as she thought of the weeks that Blair had been a potential target and none of them had known.

  "Well, we both know how dear the manual is to you," Blair rejoined sharply.

  Cam didn't bother to protest. How could she? She'd chosen duty over Blair's wishes. She had no defense. And ordinarily she would never discuss matters of protocol with someone she guarded. But she and Blair had gone so far beyond the limits of acceptable professional behavior, it was ridiculous to stand on ceremony now. It was enough that she did not touch her. That was a hardship she had created herself and would learn to bear. She would not place Blair at a disadvantage because she had overstepped her bounds. "I thought that you should know."

  "Why?"

  "At least one of them will be working with our detail in direct contact with you. I expect they'll add their own car as well."

  "That's not too subtle, is it?" Blair asked pointedly. "It's going to send a message that I give a damn what he says."

  "It's going to send a message that you are well-protected and not a ready target," Cam answered immediately.

  Blair looked away, across the park, wishing that she could be sitting there with nothing more on her mind than the sexy sound of Cam's deep voice, enjoying the flutter of desire that just being near her always produced. She sighed. "I guess it really doesn't matter. One more here or there won't change anything."

  "They've been on surveillance for the last several months, and in truth, I don't mind taking advantage of their information-gathering capabilities. They've got access to much larger databases than we do, and at this point, I'll take everything I can get."