Radclyffe - (Honor 4) - Honor Guards

by Radclyffe

  "That sounds fine. I can see that she'll be in good hands."

  "Thank you, sir."

  He shook his head, saying quietly, "No, Cam. Thank you."

  Alone, Cam pulled a chair over and settled down to wait. Stark and Davis stood at the door, quietly keeping guard.

  "I feel fine, and I'm sick of lying in bed."

  Cam had never heard Blair sound petulant before, and she found it rather endearing. However, she hid her smile, preferring not to incite her reluctant patient any further. "How about if we just have our pizza in bed while we watch a movie? You don't have to sleep."

  Blair regarded her lover suspiciously. Her breast ached, her head felt fuzzy, and Cam had been so sweet all afternoon, it was making her cranky. She didn't like being taken care of—well, maybe she did, a little. And that was annoying her, too. "What kind?"

  "Cheese."

  "No pepperoni?"

  "Ah—I thought that might be a bit much after the anesthesia and all." Cam eased onto the bed and settled her hand on Blair's thigh. In a husky voice, she murmured, "I got The Mummy Returns, "

  "Letterbox?"

  "Uh-huh."

  Carefully, Blair shifted over to make room on the pillows piled at the head of the bed. "Okay. Cheese sounds good."

  "Want a pain pill?"

  "No."

  "Maybe after you eat?"

  Blair started to protest, but caught a glimpse of the worry in Cam's eyes. She covered Cam's hand with her own and squeezed gently. "I will if I need it. Promise."

  "Deal. I'll get some paper plates and more soda."

  Halfway through the mummy's rampage through London, Blair fell asleep. Cam rose gingerly, gathered up the leftovers, and carried the lot to the kitchen. Her head throbbed, and yet she didn't feel tired. Now that Blair was home, and safe, the last few days felt more and more like a bad dream. It was hard to believe that there could be anything wrong with Blair, let alone something life-threatening. Still, Cam knew it wasn't quite over yet. And the waiting was pure torture.

  Leaning against the counter, she rubbed her hands over her face in a vain attempt to chase away the headache and settle her nerves. Then, abruptly, she reached for the phone and punched in a number.

  "Mother? There's something I want to talk to you about."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  25 August 2001

  B lair sat curled up in the corner of the couch, a pillow behind her back and a blanket over her knees. She sketched on a pad that lay in her lap, her eyes drifting between the paper and the woman who sat across from her at a small table by the windows. Cam wore a faded; nearly threadbare work shirt and red boxers. Only two buttons just below her breasts held the shirt closed. Her dark hair was unruly and her profile pale and remote, as if chiseled from stone.

  "You have a face to make an artist weep," Blair muttered as she drew rapidly.

  "Huh?" Cam glanced up and turned in Blair's direction. "Need something?"

  A slow, suggestive smile lit Blair's face. "Maybe."

  "Feeling better?" Cam grinned back, one brow arching. She was glad that Blair seemed able to lose herself in her work, because all she had wanted to do since wakening was call the doctor to ask if the pathology report was finished. She hadn't, knowing that as soon as Dr. Saunders had any information, she would contact Blair. One did not keep the first daughter in the dark about something like that any longer than necessary.

  "Just fine." Blair indicated the empty space on the other end of the sofa. "Except I'm kind of lonely."

  Cam set the newspaper aside and crossed the room to join her lover. Once seated, she drew one leg up on the cushion and extended her arm along the back, facing Blair. Her bare foot just brushed the bottom of the blanket draped over Blair's bent knees. "Are you going to be all right for the show in terms of finishing everything up?"

  "Mmm," Blair replied absently, flipping to a fresh page on her sketchpad. "I might not finish one or two...depending on...how long we stay here. But even without them, I should be okay." She looked up, meeting Cam's eyes. "Would you mind unbuttoning your shirt?"

  "All right," Cam replied slowly, her tone pitched low. Moving nothing except her hand, she loosed the two buttons and allowed her shirt to fall open between her breasts. "Good enough?"

  "For the moment."

  They were silent as Blair's hand moved in sure, swift strokes over the surface of the paper, her blue eyes, dark with purpose, flicking back and forth between her lover and her art.

  "Shrug it off your left shoulder just a bit, so your breast is exposed," Blair requested without looking up.

  Again, being careful not to move the rest of her body, Cam pushed her shirt aside so that part of her chest was bared. The room was warm, yet her nipple contracted not from the touch of the air against it, but from the sweep of Blair's eyes over her skin. As a child, she'd sat in on classes her mother taught using nude models. When older, she'd posed nude as well. Neither experience had felt sexual, and she had learned to love the human form in a purely aesthetic way as a result.

  She'd known that posing for Blair would be different, but she hadn't anticipated just how much. Despite the fact that she knew Blair saw her body now only in the context of light and shadow, texture and line, angle and curve, being the object of Blair's intense focus stirred her nonetheless. Her pulse jumped, her skin tingled, and, despite herself, arousal fluttered in the pit of her stomach. She worked to keep her breathing even.

  "Doing okay?" Blair murmured, her eyes on her sketch pad as she turned to another page.

  "Yes."

  "Can you slip off your boxers and then return to the same position."

  "Sure." Cam's voice was husky.

  Blair seemed not to notice as she switched from pencil to charcoal. Head bent, she sketched effortlessly, concentrating on the curve of Cam's breast against the long line of her arm in one view, drawing the angles and contours of her profile in the next. Suddenly she raised her head. "Now the shirt."

  Wordlessly, Cam obeyed.

  As Blair prepared to start a new sketch, she paused to let her eyes travel from Cam's face down the column of her neck and over her chest to the long plane of her abdomen. One lean leg angled over the edge of the sofa to the floor, while the other was bent at the knee and extended along the seat toward Blair. There was only a shadow of the dark triangle between her thighs.

  "I've sketched women in the nude before," Blair remarked quietly, her gaze returning to Cam's face.

  "I know," Cam said, her thighs tightening. "I've posed before, too."

  "I've never become sexually aroused while I was doing it." Blair's hand rested on the surface of the paper, immobile.

  Cam swallowed around the sudden need in her throat. "Neither have I."

  "I am now." Blair's breath caught as she saw the flush of excitement rise on her lover's chest.

  "Me, too."

  "You are so beautiful," Blair whispered.

  "No," Cam said quickly when Blair moved to put down her charcoal and pad. "We can't."

  Blair's eyes flashed with frustration, but she nodded. Just the action of leaning over had sent a twinge of pain shooting through her breast, reminding her of the recent surgery. She sighed, carefully placing the articles on the coffee table beside her. "I've lost my concentration."

  "Should I get dressed?"

  "I don't know," Blair said suggestively, poking a leg out from beneath the blanket and rubbing her foot up the inside of Cam's thigh. "How adventurous do you feel?"

  Laughing, Cam grabbed Blair's ankle before the questing foot could reach higher. "Right this minute, I'm on simmer. Touch me there, and I'm going to get uncomfortably warm."

  "I wouldn't mind watching you put the fire out."

  Shaking her head, Cam reached for her shirt, which she had dropped on the floor. "I don't trust you to just watch."

  "I've been known to show restraint at times," Blair protested, "even though I seem to have little where you're concerned."

  Standing to step
into her boxers, Cam gave Blair a sidelong glance. "Let's test your restraint some other time, when it won't matter if you weaken."

  "I'll hold you to that."

  "No argument from me." Cam leaned down to kiss her. When Blair curled fingers in her hair, held her head firmly, and sucked on her tongue, the heat in Cam's belly burst into flames. She pulled back, gasping. "Not fair."

  Blair regarded her with a combination of hunger and ferocity. "I love the way you want me. I couldn't stand to lose that."

  Swiftly, Cam knelt by Blair's side and gentled a hand against her cheek. "You won't. I promise. But I don't want to hurt you, either."

  With a sigh, Blair rested her forehead against Cam's. "I know. I know you're right"

  "The next time I pose for you," Cam whispered, "let's make sure we have time to finish everything."

  "I love you," Blair said with a smile.

  Cam smiled and stood. "Are you hun—"

  The phone rang and they stared at each other for a millisecond before Cam grabbed it. "Roberts." She listened, then extended the phone to Blair. "Marcea."

  "Hello," Blair said with affection, watching Cam as she crossed the room and disappeared from her view. "Yes, she told me she called you...No, of course I don't mind...No, not yet. Some time today, we hope." Thank you, Blair mouthed as Cam set a fresh cup of coffee beside her. "Oh, I'd love to see you, but it's not necessary for you to come East just for this." She lowered her voice, although Cam had already returned to the kitchen. "If I should need more surgery, it might be good. I wouldn't worry so much about Cam then." Listening to the warm, gentle voice, her eyes brimmed with sudden tears, and she struggled to keep her voice even. "I'm all right. Really...We'll call you when we know something more." She blinked and whispered, "Thank you."

  "Everything all right?" Cam asked in concern when she returned carrying a tray with toasted English muffins and more coffee.

  Blair nodded, brushing at her cheeks. "Your mother is wonderful." She smiled tremulously at Cam. "She said she loves me."

  "If she did, then she means it," Cam replied quietly. "Is that okay?"

  "Oh, yes," Blair murmured. "I—"

  The phone rang again. This time when Cam held it out to Blair, her expression was solemn. "Dr. Saunders for you."

  Quickly, Blair took the phone. "Yes, this is Blair Powell. All right. Yes. Thank you."

  "Well?" Cam asked before Blair had even pushed the off button, her stomach tight to the point of pain.

  Blair pushed aside the blanket that still covered her knees and stood, extending her hand to her lover. "She expects the pathology report within the hour and asked me if we can come in."

  Heart thundering, Cam squeezed Blair's fingers gently. "Let's get ready, then."

  Less than an hour later, Blair and Cam once again sat side by side in the chairs facing Dr. Leah Saunders's desk. The otherwise empty room seemed to echo with their unspoken thoughts. Cam edged her chair over so that she could rest her right forearm on the arm of Blair's chair and clasp her lover's left hand.

  "Are you okay?"

  Blair gave Cam's hand a squeeze. "Just a little nervous."

  "No matter what—"

  The door opened and the doctor strode in, a folder under her right arm. She nodded to Cam and Blair and said immediately, even before reaching her desk, "The biopsy is benign."

  Cam felt light-headed, as if she'd suddenly taken a punch to the gut. She barely had enough strength to murmur, "Thank God."

  Blair's breath whooshed out on a relieved sigh, but she remained rigid, her gaze fixed on the surgeon's face. "What else?"

  "Nothing specific," Dr. Saunders said as she sat. "The histology mostly shows the expected cellular pattern for a woman your age." She paused, studying first Blair, then Cam. "There ore however, a few areas of atypical ductal hyperplasia, which some authorities consider precancerous or, at the very least, a potential marker for the later development of breast cancer."

  "What does that mean for me in practical terms?" Blair's voice was steady but her grip on Cam's hand was fierce.

  "Unfortunately, we don't really know." The surgeon shrugged in frustration. "If the entire specimen were involved, I'd be much more concerned. In your case, it was a very small percentage of the tissue examined. However, with your family history, we have to be cautious."

  "Meaning what?" Cam asked sharply, unconsciously assuming her command tone. Her lover's well-being was at stake, she was tired and edgy, and she could no longer tolerate feeling so helpless.

  Blair shifted her attention to Cam, smiling softly. "It's all right, darling. We'll sort it out."

  "Sorry," Cam whispered, her eyes holding Blair's.

  "You don't need to be," Blair murmured before turning back to the surgeon. "What do you recommend?"

  Dr. Saunders, used to the anxieties of patients and family members, continued in a quiet voice. "Because your mother developed breast cancer at an early age—premenopausal breast cancer—we have to be concerned about genetic inheritance. I would recommend that you have genetic testing to determine if you have the BRCA1 or BRCA2 gene for breast cancer."

  "And if I do?" Blair asked.

  "Then you have a 20 percent chance of developing breast cancer by the age of forty, and a 50 percent chance by the age of fifty." Still regarding Blair intently, Dr. Saunders added, "And you would be a candidate for elective mastectomies prior to the onset of the disease if you desired."

  The nightmare, it seemed, had not ended, but Blair had not expected it to. She was incredibly thankful that she was not facing a diagnosis of breast cancer at this point in her life. But hearing the numbers applied to her so matter-of-factly only reminded her that she would never be free of the threat. She realized for the first time that she was crushing Cam's fingers and willed herself to relax.

  "How likely am I to have the gene?"

  "I can't speculate, because we have no way to determine if your mother had the gene or not. If she did, you have a 50 percent chance of having it as well."

  "How do I find out?" Blair asked with determination.

  "DNA testing can be done on a blood specimen."

  "Can we do that today? I'd really like to go back to New York as soon as possible."

  Colonel Saunders nodded. "I can have one of the technicians take the sample. It will take several days for the results, but I can call you with that. Once I check your incision, if everything looks to be healing satisfactorily, I don't see why you can't go home."

  Blair looked at Cam. "All right?"

  "Yes," Cam replied instantly. Knowing the foe was infinitely preferable to being taken unawares by an enemy cloaked in shadow. "Absolutely."

  Stark called Renee while she waited by the passenger side of the lead car in front of the commander's apartment building. Mac was driving on the way to the airport, and she would ride shotgun.

  "Hi! You busy later?"

  Renee drew a sharp breath. "Are we talking about an in-person or a phone date?"

  "I don't know," Stark mused. "I'm getting kind of addicted to the sound of your voice."

  "I promise," Renee murmured, lowering her voice seductively, "I'm better in the flesh."

  Stark's stomach did a flip and things lower down started throbbing. "Jesus. I'm on duty here."

  "You started it." Renee laughed.

  "Yeah, but it feels really good."

  "Stop, now. We both have to work. And in case you've forgotten, the sound of your voice does very nice things to me, too."

  Grinning, Stark said, "We'll be back in the city this afternoon, and I'll be off at seven. Do you want to have dinner somewhere?"

  "Uh-huh.In bed."

  Stark blinked and felt herself get wet. "Oh, man. That did it."

  "Did you say something, sweetie?"

  "Yes." Stark heard her voice waver and repeated more firmly. "I said yes. Definitely, yes."

  "Mmm," Renee chuckled, "Can't wait."

  1510 25Aug01

  Falls Church, Virginia


  A rental car carrying four men pulled into a parking lot next to a twenty-four-hour convenience store. A middle-aged Salvadoran man emerged from a battered Mercury and walked to the driver's side window.

  "You are the gentleman sent by our mutual friend?" he asked in concise, polite tones.

  "The, general told us you would provide papers," the bearded driver said curtly.

  "That is correct, for $50 apiece, U.S. currency. And I do not provide papers, only the assistance for^ow to obtain them."

  Perturbed, the driver glanced at the other men in the car, then back to the Salvadoran. "We were told you would provide legal identity papers for all of us."

  "In Virginia, all that is required to establish legal status is a sponsor to affirm that you have a permanent address in the state. I will do that for you, and the commonwealth of Virginia will provide your identity papers." He glanced at his watch. "If we go now, we will be done by sundown."

  Once the men had obtained their American driver's licenses, the driver stopped at a Kinko's and paid cash for ten minutes of computer time. There, he sent the same e-mail to two different Yahoo addresses. The recipients were both in Las Vegas and had been there for weeks while the final plans and timing for the operation were determined.

  Credentials obtained. We leave tomorrow. Rendezvous in three days.

  The summit meeting for the six pilots was confirmed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  P aula Stark sat nude at the head of the bed with Renee Savard snugged sideways between her legs, Renee's head on her shoulder. The remains of their deli sandwiches rested on plates on the bedside table along with an empty bottle of wine. With an arm wrapped around Renee's waist, Stark rested her cheek against Renee's temple and lazily circled a palm over her abdomen. "Hungry? There's some food left."

  "Uh-uh," Renee replied in a slow, somnolent drawl. "Right now, I can't think of anything except how damn good I feel."