Price of Honor

by Radclyffe

  The speeches at the scheduled stops were all more of the same rhetoric he’d been spouting since his inauguration—getting Americans back to work, ensuring a strong America in the global market, protecting our shores and our interests abroad, safeguarding the rights of all Americans. That last was where he tripped up, of course. Because what Powell considered rights others considered sacrilege. That was one of his many weaknesses Franklin planned to make clear to the voters, no matter what it took. All the same, the entire train trip was a brilliant political move that couldn’t go unanswered.

  Derek handed him a scotch. “The novelty will wear off in a day or two.”

  “I doubt it. Americans love a spectacle, and he’s certainly making one.” Franklin wasn’t in the mood to be placated. For once, he found Derek’s earnest faith annoying and naïve. Could his aide still be as much a Boy Scout as he appeared in his khaki pants and button-down shirt and pale blue cashmere sweater? Hadn’t the past four years with Franklin taught him anything?

  “We need a rebuttal then—” Derek began, his tone half-soothing, half-belligerent.

  “Damn right. Get Nora for me. We need to be making some news of our own right now.”

  “Certainly.” Derek’s expression didn’t change at the mention of Franklin’s campaign manager and lover, but his voice chilled. “What should I tell her?”

  “What do you think?” Franklin slugged down the scotch and rapped the glass down onto a gleaming polished walnut table, where a ring of condensation immediately formed. “Tell her I want to see her. Now. She knows where.”

  “Of course, sir.” Derek lifted the glass and slid a linen cocktail napkin under it to absorb the moisture.

  “And try Hooker again. I want an update on the investigation into that mess up in the mountains. The last thing we need is a bunch of feds snooping around here for weeks.”

  “I’m still getting direct to voice mail when I call him, sir,” Derek said stiffly.

  “Then keep trying and text me when you get him.”

  “Of course.”

  Franklin stalked toward the door, then recognized the chill in the room and turned back. He put on a conciliatory grin and squeezed Derek’s shoulder. “Sorry. Hypocrisy always enrages me, but I shouldn’t take my anger at Powell’s betrayal of his office out on you.” He let his eyes and smile soften and swept a hand down Derek’s arm, gripping his hand for a long second before he let go. “Certainly not you.”

  Derek’s lips parted and his body swayed ever so slightly in Franklin’s direction. Franklin noticed and congratulated himself on settling the waters.

  “Of course, Senator.”

  “Franklin,” Franklin said. “When we’re alone.”

  “Of course…Franklin.”

  *

  The press dining car doors slid open with barely a whisper, and Viv quickly took stock of its occupants. They were early for the dinner service, and she was hoping it wouldn’t be too crowded. Several reporters sat alone with laptops and tablets, and a group of four occupied a table in the center of the car. She knew them by sight and nodded when they glanced up. When they went back to their conversation almost immediately, she breathed an inward sigh of relief.

  “Is that table back there okay?” She pointed to a small table tucked into the corner of the rear of the car.

  “Looks great,” Dusty said.

  Once they were seated at the white-linen-covered table, Viv felt almost as if they were alone. No one paid them any attention, and she indulged her urge to just stare. She’d been thinking about this meeting—might as well call it what it was, date—all afternoon, and Dusty didn’t disappoint. She looked different out of uniform. Still with that easy, rugged air of confidence and physical grace all the agents exuded, but her plain navy waffle-knit hugged her body in a way her BDU shirt hadn’t, revealing the swell of her breasts and tapering torso. Her sandy hair was just a little disordered, as if she’d been running a hand through it, and her eyes when she met Viv’s held a suggestion of heat that hadn’t been there earlier. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Because Viv’s temperature was definitely soaring. God, but Dusty pushed every button she had, and some she hadn’t even known about. And she really did have the most fascinating mouth…

  A steward appeared at her elbow, making her jump.

  “Would you like to see menus?” The slender blond steward, immaculate in black pants, a short white tux jacket, white shirt, and black tie, looked both friendly and discreetly distant, like all the White House staff.

  Viv hoped Dusty hadn’t been reading her mind and asked as calmly as she could while looking into Dusty’s amused eyes, “A drink first?”

  “Sure.” Dusty grinned and turned to the steward. “I don’t suppose you have beer?”

  “Actually, ma’am, we have both bottled and on tap.”

  “Agent will do,” Dusty said in a friendly tone. “Dark ale?”

  He nodded and reeled off the names of several brews unfamiliar to Viv. “And of course, a farmhouse ale that the president prefers.”

  “That’s the one, then,” Dusty replied.

  “And you, ma’am?” the steward asked of Viv.

  “Wine?”

  “Of course. Glass or bottle? I can bring you a list.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I think I’ll start with a glass. White burgundy?”

  He smiled. “Very good.”

  He disappeared, and Viv sighed. “I could get used to this kind of service.”

  “Don’t you get that, powering around on Angel?”

  Viv frowned. “Sorry?”

  “Air Force One.”

  “Oh!” Viv laughed. “Not back in the cattle car. I mean, it’s luxurious compared to commercial, but we pretty much look after ourselves in the press area except when meals are served. That is definitely nice.”

  “Well, this pretty much beats cargo planes all to hell.”

  “I can imagine.” Viv frowned. “Or maybe not. Do you think Phil would let me fly back with you all?”

  Dusty snorted. “Trust me, you do not want to do that.”

  “No, really, I do. I’ll ask him.”

  “I hope you brought long underwear.”

  “Uh,” Viv said, “I don’t actually own any.”

  “Then you’re going to freeze your a—” Dusty flushed. “Sorry.”

  Viv smiled. “I’ve heard the word, and I think I actually have one.”

  “You do. I noticed.”

  A little shower of sparks trickled down Viv’s spine. “Did you?”

  Dusty just nodded, her expression completely serious. Did she know how sexy it was when she acted like everything about Viv was important, even her ass? She didn’t. No one could pull off that unstudied charm so effortlessly. She was just that sexy.

  “I bet it won’t be much worse than today, at least weather-wise.” Viv tried to get her mind off Dusty and her ass—either of their asses. Of course, Dusty’s was mighty fine in those blue jeans, a bit more than two handfuls, firmly packed. And that image wasn’t helping. At all.

  “What was it like today?” Dusty asked.

  “I didn’t think it was possible for things to be more hectic than his normal trips, but it was. Between his scheduled appearances and then the unscheduled stops along the way, I was running for most of it. But it’s exciting. No president has done this in so long.” Viv nodded her thanks when the steward slipped her glass of wine onto the table. She grabbed it and tried not to gulp. Her throat was so damn dry. “Does it make it more difficult for you—the train, I mean?”

  “Not really. Whenever POTUS travels, our job is the same whether it’s a train or a building or a plaza. Atlas is always scenting for explosives. And I need to make sure he gets to check all the potentially dangerous places.” Dusty laughed, and small crinkles Viv hadn’t noticed before appeared at the corners of her eyes. “I’d rather be doing this in SoCal, though.”

  “I know, and more snow is coming.”

  “Atlas at least
won’t mind.”

  Viv frowned. “Where is he?”

  “In the kennel car in his crate.”

  “Alone?” Viv didn’t see how she could miss him after only knowing him a few hours, but she did. “Is he all right? Is it warm enough in there?”

  “He’s probably snoozing right now, but he won’t be happy if I leave him for long. He’s used to being with me.”

  “It must be very special, living with him and working with him, the bond between the two of you.”

  “We’re partners,” Dusty said. “No different than any other partners.”

  “Tell me how you knew this was what you wanted to do.”

  Dusty grasped the glass of beer and seemed to be studying it. Maybe the question had touched a nerve. Viv hadn’t intended for this meeting to be about work, and she really hadn’t meant to bring up anything uncomfortable. Dusty had been clear earlier in the day she was most comfortable talking about Atlas’s role, not hers. Viv reached across the table and rested her fingertips gently on the top of Dusty’s hand. “This is off the record, but if you don’t want to tell me, it’s okay too. I really just wanted to know about how you knew this…partnership…was for you.”

  Dusty looked up, her green eyes hazy, as if seeing something, or someplace, far away. “Most of the guys would probably say they like the chance to work solo in the field pretty much all the time, just them and their dogs. You’re moving around, searching out potential threats, rather than waiting passively for something to happen.”

  “But not you?”

  “Oh, me too. We like to poke fun at the guys standing post hour after hour by a door or a car.” Dusty laughed softly, but her expression remained distant. “All those things make the job really great. But for me, it’s more about him. He makes everything—my job, my life—work.”

  “Atlas.”

  Dusty nodded. “He gets me. I’ve always been able to connect with animals. I know that sounds kind of crazy, but growing up on a farm, I was always the one that could get a nervous mare to settle down or an aggressive buck to mind his manners.”

  Charmed, Viv murmured, “Like the Dog Whisperer.”

  Dusty blushed. “I was just more comfortable with them than anyone else.”

  “Any idea why?” Viv had no intention of putting any of this in her article. This was about Dusty, and she wanted to know her. “Just between us.”

  “When I was young, I stuttered,” Dusty said.

  “Really? You’d never know that now.”

  “It went away by the time I was ten or so, but it made me pretty shy in school.”

  Viv squeezed Dusty’s hand. “I’m sorry. It’s tough being different at any age, but worse for kids.”

  “It’s okay. Long time ago.” Dusty shook herself, just as Atlas had, shedding snow from his coat earlier. “So how about you? I bet you were the most popular girl in your class.”

  Startled, Viv shook her head self-consciously. “I wasn’t.”

  “I bet you were. Wait—cheerleader?”

  Viv felt heat rush to her face. “Yes, but—”

  “Prom queen?”

  Viv groaned. “Listen, it was—”

  Dusty’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s see, I bet you went to…Vassar.”

  “You’re scary. Stop.”

  “President of student union? And—”

  “Okay, that’s it.” Viv narrowed her eyes. “You Googled me.”

  Dusty laughed again, and the clouds in her eyes disappeared. “I did not. Although that’s a good idea.”

  “I can’t believe you were ever shy.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re so good at reading people…well, me at least.”

  “You think so?” Dusty said quietly.

  “You were embarrassingly correct just now.”

  “I was guessing, because of what you do and how you carry yourself. You’re confident, intelligent, and…beautiful.”

  “Now you’re really embarrassing me.” Viv realized they were still almost holding hands and the dining car was filling up. She didn’t care what anyone thought about her, but they were in a work situation. Reluctantly she broke the contact and drew her fingers away. “If those were guesses, what are you thinking about me now?”

  “I’m wondering how I got so lucky to be having dinner with you.”

  “I was thinking something similar. Because I can’t imagine how you’ve managed to stay single so long.”

  “I don’t bump into beautiful, intelligent, confident women very often. At least, not ones who have ever had any interest in talking to me.”

  “Then you must bump into a lot of foolish women.”

  “What about you?” Dusty asked. “Is there someone?”

  “If there were, I wouldn’t be having dinner with you right now,” Viv said. “Oh, I might be having dinner, but not quite like this.”

  “Like this?”

  “Like personal, not business. Like I could sit here for the rest of the night with you because I want to find out everything about you.”

  “I don’t think it would take that long.”

  “Oh, I think it would take a lot longer.”

  “I wish…” Dusty looked away, then directly into Viv’s eyes. “I wish we weren’t on this train right now. Because I’d really like to be alone with you.”

  Viv’s heart thudded. “Would you? Why?”

  “So I could keep holding your hand while we talked.”

  “Well,” Viv said, as breathless as she’d been the first time she’d been alone with a girl and realized they were about to become more than just friends. She suddenly very, very much wanted to hold Dusty Nash’s hand. “Why don’t we have the steward bring us some sandwiches, and we can get Atlas and have a picnic somewhere.”

  “You want to get Atlas?” Dusty’s startled expression morphed into something dark and intense and so compelling Viv leaned closer until their thighs touched beneath the white linen cloth.

  “I don’t want him to be alone and wondering where you are,” Viv said softly. Her leg trembled. She trembled everywhere. “Do you mind?”

  “No. I don’t mind at all.” Dusty’s long golden lashes flickered as her lids dropped lazily and her gaze skated over Viv’s face. “My room should be free now. It’ll be a little crowded, but cozy.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  Dusty pushed back her chair. “I’ll tell the steward to rush the sandwiches.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  On the Rails

  Blair grabbed the safety handle above the berth with one hand and the back of Cam’s head with the other, steadying her shaking legs. She twisted the thick dark locks between her fingers, pulling her lower lip between her teeth while trying valiantly to hold back a moan. Another stroke of Cam’s tongue broke her will.

  “God,” she groaned, “stop. I think I hear someone—”

  “There’s no one,” Cam murmured, rubbing her cheek over the soft valley between Blair’s thigh and her lower abdomen. “And even if there was, the train noise is louder than you are.”

  Blair tossed her head back as Cam’s mouth closed over her again. “I think…you’re wrong there.”

  She thought she heard Cam chuckle, but her mind was melting. A blazing sunburst wiped out thought, replacing awareness with glorious sensation. She didn’t remember falling, and maybe she didn’t, but the next thing she knew she was lying on the bunk with Cam beside her, leaning on an elbow and watching her with a self-satisfied grin.

  “Proud of yourself?” Blair gasped.

  “Supremely,” Cam said, her voice low and husky.

  Blair hooked a finger in the waistband of Cam’s pants and tugged. “Why are you still wearing these?”

  “I was overcome.”

  Blair laughed. “Well, overcome some more and get undressed. I want skin.”

  Cam kissed her and hurried to sit up. “Anything you say.”

  Blair blinked some of the haze from her brain to watch Cam undress. Seeing her get
naked was a pleasure that never got old, and one that somehow managed to stir the fires where she would’ve sworn she was completely reduced to ash. When Cam stripped off her shirt, Blair’s brain crashed back online. “What the hell?”

  Cam frowned. “What?”

  Blair jumped up and flicked on the small light over the tiny dresser sandwiched between the two miniature closets. “Turn this way.”

  Brow creased, Cam obeyed, pulling her shirt the rest of the way off. “Let’s get back in—”

  “Hush.” Blair gently brushed her fingers over a bruise roughly the shape and size of Texas on Cam’s side. “Cam, look at this. Don’t tell me you can’t feel that.”

  Cam glanced down. “Huh. Must’ve gotten that when Brock and I got tangled up this morning. I didn’t feel it.”

  “Take a deep breath. Does it hurt?”

  “Hey.” Cam grasped Blair’s shoulders, pulling Blair’s attention to her face. “It’s nothing. It’s a bruise. I’m fine.”

  “Take off your pants. I want to see your leg.”

  “Blair, we can do all that later.”

  Blair poked a finger at Cam’s chest. “No. We’ll do it now. If you’re hurt, I want you to see Wes.”

  Cam laughed. “I’m not going to have the first doctor take a look at me because I’ve got a little black-and-blue mark.”

  “You will if I say you will.”

  “Actually, you’re right, so promise you won’t overreact.”