Word of Honor fr-7

by Radclyffe

  Matheson pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. “Yes?”

  Blair was in midair when the front window shattered and the cabin rocked with an enormous explosion accompanied by a flash of brilliant white light. Her leg connected with something hard, but her mind was too scrambled to determine what it was. She heard gunfire, or maybe it was just the echo of that first blast resounding in her traumatized ears. Pain shot through the right side of her face and down her neck, and she suddenly couldn’t breathe. Blinded, dizzy, lungs on fire, Blair arched her back, ignoring the crushing weight on her neck, and thrust both arms behind her. Then, she dropped to her knees and pulled with all her strength.

  “Matheson!” Cam shouted, diving into the cabin, her rifle at shoulder height, frantically sweeping the space. Agents crashed through the back door, and the air exploded with yells. She pivoted, her finger tightening on the trigger as her heart stopped. Matheson grabbed Blair from behind, one beefy arm clamped across her throat, and lifted his weapon to her temple. Cam screamed “No!”

  And then, in one of the most beautiful moves she had ever seen, Blair dropped into a forward shoulder throw, catapulting Matheson over her head and onto the floor in front of her. With an action born of instinct and years of training, Blair gripped his head in both hands and in one swift, fluid rotation of her torso, snapped his neck.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “Clear! Clear! Clear!” The air was charged with the smell of explosives and cloudy with residue. Cam ripped off her protective headgear and goggles and dropped to her knees by Blair’s side. Lowering her weapon, she pulled Blair into her arms. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” Blair said breathlessly. “Paula—”

  “We know. Emory’s on her way. We’ll get her to the hospital.” Cam cradled Blair’s head, her gaze darting over her face. A red welt marred her right temple where Matheson had jammed his weapon. She couldn’t quite believe that she was holding her again. She rubbed Blair’s arms with both hands, suddenly aware that Blair was shaking uncontrollably. “Did he hurt you? Baby, are you hurt?”

  Blair glanced down at the inert form sprawled in front of them. Matheson lay on his back, his hands lax by his sides, his expression one of mild confusion. “No, I’m…I’m all right. But God, Cam, I think I—”

  “Come on,” Cam said, guiding Blair to her feet. She didn’t need to check the body. She’d seen the signature jerk and twitch of his limbs when his spine had been severed. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “I want to stay with Paula.”

  “As soon as the situation is under control, we’ll go to the hospital.” Cam brushed Blair’s hair with her fingertips. Her hand was trembling. She wanted Blair out of that room, away from the death and the violence. She wanted so desperately to protect her from the ugliness and the hatred, and she couldn’t. “I’m sorry. I can’t let you leave the grounds yet. He may have a partner close by.”

  Blair wrapped her arms around Cam’s waist and buried her face in the curve of Cam’s neck. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  “God, baby. I love you.” Cam stood in the midst of the milling crowd of agents and contract soldiers, rocking Blair, consoling them both. Valerie appeared in the doorway, the sunlight at her back, her face in shadow. Cam could feel her eyes upon them and she nodded her silent thanks. Valerie tipped her head in response. Then Valerie’s throaty voice cut effortlessly through the clamor of the adrenaline-charged teams.

  “We’ve got wounded here and potential hostiles still at large, troops. Alpha team—you’re evac. Beta team—secure the scene.”

  As chaos gave way to order, Valerie approached. “Ms. Powell, do you need medical attention?”

  Blair eased out of Cam’s embrace, but kept her hand on Cam’s hip. “No, thank you. Both Paula and Dana were injured.”

  “She should be looked at,” Cam said.

  Blair started to protest, but Valerie broke in. “I agree. But as long as it isn’t urgent, I suggest you take her somewhere secure, Deputy Director.”

  Cam wrapped an arm around Blair’s shoulders. “You’re right. Thanks. If you need me for anything…”

  Valerie smiled. “I’ll keep you advised, of course.”

  As Blair and Cam started away, Valerie said softly, “Would you tell Diane I’ll be a little longer?”

  Blair turned back. “I’ll let her know you’re all right. And Valerie, thank you for…” She looked around the room. “For this.”

  “Not necessary,” Valerie said, “but you’re very welcome.”

  “All clear,” Felicia Davis said to Emory. “You can go in now.” Emory jumped from the Suburban that had pulled in line with the one in front of Blair’s cabin and raced over the hard-packed snow to the porch. She leapt up the two steps and pushed through the open door. The main room was filled with men and women bristling with assault weapons. Just a few feet inside the door, Dana knelt by Paula Stark, both hands pressed to Stark’s left thigh while Renee Savard cradled the unconscious woman in her arms. Dana’s face was streaked with blood and an egg-sized bruise distorted her left cheek. Her pale shirt was nearly black with blood, and for just a second, Emory was nearly consumed with panic. Then her mind registered that Dana was not seriously injured, and as much as Emory wanted to touch her, she couldn’t. Not when Stark needed her more.

  “It’s okay, sweetie, it’s okay,” Savard crooned over and over, her lips to Stark’s forehead, her face a mask of abject terror.

  “We need a stretcher in here,” Emory shouted to no one in particular as she crouched down. Dana gave her an anxious smile and Emory quickly smiled back before returning her attention to Paula. Her pulse was easily one-fifty and her skin was cold. “She’s in shock.” She raised her voice. “I need resuscitation fluid right now.”

  From beside her a man responded, “Here you go, Doc.”

  “Cut her jacket and shirt sleeves away,” Emory ordered while she tore the plastic wrapping off IV tubing. Then she inserted plastic catheters in the veins in both of Paula’s arms and connected the tubing to bags of fluid. “Pump these in. Then hang two more.” She looked over her shoulder and saw a collapsible gurney just outside the door. “Do we have MAST trousers?”

  “No,” one of Tanner’s team said. “Sorry, Doc.”

  Emory shook her head in frustration. “Let’s move her, then.” She inched closer to Dana. “How much is she bleeding?”

  “Not much anymore,” Dana said, keeping her voice low. “But she’s bled a hell of a lot.”

  “How badly are you hurt?”

  “Thump on the head. I’ve had worse.”

  “I want you to ride to the hospital and get checked out. I’m going to be busy with her for a while.” Emory feathered her fingers over Dana’s cheek, just below the bruise. “I was so worried about you. Don’t disappear, all right? God, Dana, I need to see you.”

  “Just take care of her. I’ll find you.”

  “Good. Don’t forget.” Then Emory stood. “Let me put a field dressing on that leg and then let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “I’m okay, Dad.” Blair cradled the phone in one hand while stripping out of her jeans and sweater in the bedroom of Diane’s cabin. “Really, I’m fine… What?”

  At the sharp astonishment in Blair’s voice, Cam took a step toward her, but Blair waved her away.

  “Of course I’m not upset,” Blair said adamantly. “I didn’t expect you to do anything except what you did. God, Dad. You can’t just give in to these fuckers.”

  Cam didn’t care if Blair wanted to be held or not. She needed to hold her. When she put her arms around her, Blair sagged into her.

  “I’m sorry,” Blair said to her father, her voice shaking. “I’m a little strung out right now. I just want to get a shower. Here’s Cam.”

  Blair broke away from Cam and held out the phone. “Tell him… whatever.”

  Cam waited until the bathroom door slammed shut and then sat on the edge of the bed. She was exhausted and k
eyed up at the same time. “Sir, it’s Cameron Roberts.”

  “You’re sure she’s not hurt?” the president said.

  “She’s shaken up a bit, but uninjured.”

  “How bad was it?”

  Cam closed her eyes. “Bad. Close call.”

  “I want a full report.”

  “Yes sir. Of course.”

  “You told Lucinda the threat was neutralized?”

  Cam hesitated. She’d only told Lucinda in a quick phone call that Blair had been recovered, that they had injuries, and that Matheson was no longer a threat. She hadn’t provided any details. She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to tell the president about what had happened in that cabin.

  As if reading her thoughts, Andrew Powell said, “I’m her father, Cam. This is between you and me.”

  “Blair killed him, hand to hand.”

  The president sighed. “Well. How is she taking it?”

  “I don’t know.” Cam glanced toward the bathroom. Not being able to see her, even for a few seconds, was driving her crazy. “If it’s all right with you, sir, I’d like to finish my report later.”

  “Take care of her.”

  “Yes sir. I will.”

  Cam dropped the phone on the bedside table, unstrapped her weapon, and stripped down. She wanted to take the weapon with her into the bathroom, but the last thing Blair needed right now was to feel unsafe. She compromised by placing it on the chair closest to the bathroom door. She knocked, tried the handle, and finding the door unlocked, slipped inside. The shower was running, but Blair stood in front of the vanity, her hands clutching the edge, her head down. Her hair fell forward to cover her face, but it was easy to tell that she was crying. Cam cradled her from behind. “It’s okay, baby.”

  Blair turned and wrapped her arms tightly around Cam’s shoulders, pressing her face to Cam’s neck. “It was over so fast. I didn’t think about it. He didn’t care if Paula died. I had to stop him.”

  “Are you sorry?”

  “No,” Blair said after a few seconds. She raised her head and searched Cam’s face. “Should I be?”

  Cam smiled wryly. “No, baby. You shouldn’t be. He murdered one of Tanner’s men, he shot Stark and left her to die. He most certainly would have killed you and Dana once he realized there would be no negotiations. And that was just today.”

  Blair smiled weakly. “Have you ever…with your bare hands?”

  “No. With a weapon.” Cam sighed. “And I’ve given the order, when I would much preferred to have done it with my own hands.” She stroked Blair’s cheek. “You were amazing. You saved yourself, you saved Dana and Paula. You did exactly what needed to be done.” She kissed her. “I’m proud of you.”

  “You’re shaking,” Blair murmured.

  Cam squeezed her eyes tightly closed, holding back the tears that rose out of nowhere. “I just need to hold you.”

  Blair caressed Cam’s back, smoothed her hand over her hair. “I’m okay. I’m right here.”

  “Christ, I was scared.”

  “I knew you would come,” Blair whispered. “Don’t cry, darling. I’m never leaving you.”

  Cam swiped her face on her arm. “I just want to spend the rest of the day with you in my arms, but we need to get to the hospital.”

  “How about taking a shower with me first?”

  “I’ll take a shower with you. Hell, I’ll even go shopping with you.” Cam kissed her, hard. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. Ever.” “I won’t complain.” Blair laughed. “How things change.” Cam held open the shower door. “Love will do that to you.”

  Dana pressed a cellophane-wrapped sandwich she’d picked up in the hospital cafeteria into Renee’s hand. She set a cup of coffee on the end table next to her and dropped into a surprisingly comfortable chair close by. “I know you don’t want to eat, but you should. It’s been a long day. It’s probably going to be a longer night.”

  Renee turned the sandwich around in her hands as if she’d never seen one before. She still wore her black BDUs and T-shirt, and she looked wild and dangerous. “She’s been in there for almost five hours.”

  “The trauma resident told Emory a branch of the femoral artery was nicked. They have to repair that. That kind of stuff takes a while.”

  “They said the nerve was okay, didn’t they?” Renee asked for the third time. “Her leg…if her leg…if she can’t…”

  Dana had never seen anyone faint while sitting down, but she thought Renee was about to. Her normally vibrant golden skin was a lusterless, washed-out beige, and her eyes were unfocused. Dana quickly knelt in front of her and cupped the back of her neck. “Here, put your head down for a second.”

  “Sorry,” Renee whispered. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Dana murmured, rubbing her shoulder. “It’s been a really crappy day.”

  Renee laughed weakly and slowly raised her head. Her eyes glistened with tears. “Yeah. Really.” She brushed her cheeks. “She loves her fucking job. If she can’t do it anymore, I think it will break her heart.”

  Dana smoothed her hands over Renee’s shoulders, then squeezed. “That kind of decision is way down the road. I think this country needs people like her right now, and the government doesn’t let go easy. They’ll probably rehab her until her ass falls off, but they’ll get her back to work.”

  “Yeah. I’ve been there. Rehab’s a bitch.” Renee looked past Dana’s shoulder and stiffened. “Emory! Is there any word?”

  “One of the nurses just stuck her head out of the OR. They’re almost done. She’s stable.”

  “Do they know anything about her leg yet?”

  “It’s too soon to tell, but arterial repairs are usually straightforward.” Emory rested her hand on Dana’s shoulder as Dana stood up. “I won’t say don’t worry, because that’s impossible. But I think we have reason to be optimistic.”

  Renee took a shaky breath. “Thanks for everything.”

  Emory leaned into Dana. “I think Dana is the one to thank. Keeping pressure on the wound all that time made a huge difference.”

  Dana blushed, liking the way Emory touched her in public. She wished they could be alone. With everything that had been going on, they had barely had a chance to see each other since the counterassault on the cabin. Still, whenever Emory saw her, her gaze lingered on Dana’s, and her mouth curved into a small smile. Even the slightest glance made Dana quiver.

  Her thoughts were about to wander down decidedly inopportune avenues, considering where they were and how long they were likely to be there, when Blair Powell and Cameron Roberts entered the small waiting area. The president’s daughter looked remarkably fresh and composed in jeans and a plain dark blouse. The deputy director wore a jacket and pants and an unreadable expression. Worried, Dana thought. She doubted Cameron Roberts liked Blair venturing out in public, which probably explained the presence of a cadre of agents close behind them. Dana nodded toward Blair. “Ms. Powell’s the one to thank. She saved our asses.”

  Renee jumped up as Blair hurried over.

  “Hey,” Blair said, hugging her. “How are you doing?”

  “Okay,” Renee said. “How about you?”

  Blair’s expression clouded. “I’m so damn sorry about Paula, Renee.”

  Renee frowned. “If it weren’t for you, she might be dead.”

  “If it weren’t for me,” Blair said bitterly, “she wouldn’t be in the operating room right now.”

  “Blair,” Cam said gently.

  “It’s true, Cameron, and there’s no way to pretty it up,” Blair said sharply. “Damn it. They were after me.”

  “Yes, they were,” Cam said in a reasonable tone, although the look in her eyes was hot and angry. “They were after you, personally, which is bad enough. But by trying to use you as leverage against the president, they were also after all of us, and all of those that we as a nation protect, not just here, but everywhere. Matheson and those working with him were trying to destroy something far greater tha
n you.” She took Blair’s hand. “And I can guarantee that Paula Stark or any one of us, including you, would gladly go down fighting to prevent that from happening.”

  Every agent in the room nodded and Blair just shook her head before kissing Cam’s cheek. “I love you, you know that?” She looked around the room. “All of you.”

  “Can I quote you on that?” Dana asked.

  “Yes,” Blair and Cam replied together.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Diane turned away from the window, sensing a presence despite the utter silence in the room.

  Valerie stood just inside the bedroom door, as if she were waiting for permission to come any farther. Diane hadn’t heard the door open or close, which wasn’t unusual. Valerie appeared and disappeared as if her existence were merely a ripple on the surface of other people’s lives.

  Diane wondered when Valerie would trust what was between them and believe that there was nothing about her—not her past, not her present, and not what she might have to do in the future—that would force Diane to turn from her. Slowly, she closed the blinds, then crossed the lamplit room until she was standing in front of Valerie. She took both of her hands, marveling at the soft, subtle strength in her long fingers. With her hair tied back in a simple ponytail, without makeup, in the jeans she so very rarely wore and heavy boots, she looked nothing like the sophisticated, elegant woman she usually presented to the world.

  “I like you like this,” Diane mused, tracing her fingertip along the edge of Valerie’s jaw. “You’re gorgeous in anything you wear. Or when you wear nothing at all.” She laughed and draped her arms loosely around Valerie’s neck. “But just like this, you look so strong. Simply beautiful.”

  Valerie closed her eyes briefly. “I’ve spent most of my life trying not to be seen. Or at least to be sure that others only saw what I wanted them to see. I’m not sure that what you see is real.”

  “Oh, believe me,” Diane murmured, insinuating her body against Valerie’s. “It’s real. You are real. What’s between us is real.”