Code of Honor

by Radclyffe

  He laughed. “You know how much organizing that takes? Assuming they even agree to meet you?”

  “I know. I’m asking politely to give you time to tell them I’m coming—one way or the other.”

  He sighed. “I’ll make some calls. Give me your number.”

  She told him. “Thirty-six hours. Then I’m going to start opening files and digging up names.”

  “I hear you. I’ll do what I can.”

  “Thanks.”

  She searched reports on survivalist activities, looking at known activists and paramilitary leaders who might have the resources to pose a realistic threat. She compiled a list of twenty possibles who had the experience, organizational expertise, and contacts to orchestrate the kind of plan Jennifer Pattee had been party to. The money to pull it off was another issue, and that thread was still eluding her. At close to 0200, when she’d done as much as she could from a desk, she closed the computer and caught a cab home.

  She let herself into the empty condo, showered, and stretched out naked in bed. She hadn’t slept there alone for a long time. She’d never slept well until Blair. With Blair in her arms, she didn’t dream of her mistakes, wasn’t haunted by those she had failed to protect. Blair chased her ghosts away.

  As she stared at the ceiling, she thought about calling her. She left the phone on the table beside the bed. Not out of stubbornness or pride, but a phone call would have been about her need, not Blair’s. Blair had texted, and her message had been clear. She wanted a little space. A little time to herself. That was something Cam could give her, and she couldn’t give her the things that mattered most.

  She rolled onto her side and stared into the dark. In a few hours she’d be on her way to Georgia and then off to Idaho. The closer she got to the answers she needed, the greater the risk of reprisal. Blair was probably safer exactly where she was.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Blair woke in the unfamiliar bed before dawn. The bedside clock said 5:05. She pulled on her jeans and the ancient sweatshirt, bearing the name of their prep school, Diane had lent her, and walked barefoot into the kitchen. On a clear day, Diane’s high-rise condo had a million-dollar view of Central Park, but at the moment the only light came from a small table lamp on the circular bistro table in front of the opaque, dark windows. A woman sat there in one of the ornate wrought-iron chairs, leaning with her cheek on her hand, her back to Blair. Her blond hair was golden yellow, lighter than Blair’s, and cut shorter than Blair remembered. Her thin shoulders seemed to sag inside her dark silk shirt. Her eyes were closed, her profile as elegant as a carved cameo.

  Unwillingly entranced by Valerie’s sad, solitary beauty, Blair stood still, watching her, wondering if she should wake her or just back away. She wanted to like Valerie because her best friend loved her. Part of her, most of her, did like her, and she owed her for many things. Valerie had saved Cam’s life more than once. Valerie had also been Cam’s lover, and some part of that connection still persisted between them. In her head and her heart, Blair knew Valerie was no threat, but the animal that lived deep in the primitive recesses of her mind urged her to mark her territory every time she and Valerie were in the same room. If she’d truly been the beast that prowled her subconscious, she would have growled a warning. Maybe she did.

  Valerie opened her eyes and said in her husky alto, “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “You didn’t.” Knowing she couldn’t retreat without looking foolish, she walked the rest of the way into the kitchen and looked at the coffeepot. Thankfully, it was full and hot. Something else she owed Valerie. Shaking her head, she poured herself a cup, cradled the warm mug between her hands, and leaned against the counter. “When did you get in?”

  “About an hour ago. I didn’t want to wake Diane.” Valerie smiled, and even the dark circles beneath her eyes could not mar her loveliness. “Fortunately, she can sleep through almost anything.”

  Blair laughed softly. “I know. Have you eaten anything?”

  Valerie’s brows drew down as if she was trying to remember. “I don’t think…I’m not exactly sure when, but I’m not hungry.”

  Blair set her coffee cup aside and opened the refrigerator. “You just think you’re not hungry. Believe me, I’ve seen Cam come in after a few days in the field ready to fall down from hunger, and too exhausted to tell. So…food first. Sleep second.”

  Valerie started to rise. “You don’t have to—”

  “Please.” Blair waved Valerie back into her seat and took out eggs, butter, and cheese. She knew her way around Diane’s kitchen as well as she did her own. It only took her a few minutes to scramble enough eggs and cheese for two. She slid toast into the toaster and put two plates on the small table. After the toast popped, she buttered it, scooped eggs onto both plates, and sat with her coffee across from Valerie. She nodded at the plate she’d placed in front of Diane’s lover. “Go ahead. Eat that while it’s hot. My guess is you’ll be asleep in half an hour.”

  Valerie’s elegant mouth quirked into a smile. “You think all of us are alike?”

  Blair dug into her eggs. “Mostly, yes.” She ate for a moment, then put her fork aside and leaned back. She wasn’t all that hungry. She wondered if Cam had bothered to eat. Probably not. Coffee and a doughnut did not constitute a meal. Valerie was nothing like Cam—Valerie was secretive and changeable, while Cam was as honest and unwavering as bedrock. Valerie was as ephemeral as a melody drifting on a breeze, impossible to capture. Cam was a refrain that resonated in every cell, strong and unbending. Polar opposites, but they both accepted life-threatening danger in the name of duty, and each, in her own way, courted death. “Why do you do it?”

  Valerie regarded her intently. “Shouldn’t you be asking Cameron?”

  “Probably.” Blair smiled wryly and broke off a corner of toast. “I know what she’d say, but I’m still not sure I understand. Maybe you’ll make more sense.”

  “I doubt it.”

  Blair laughed. “Because it’s another secret-agent secret?”

  “No.” Valerie speared a mound of eggs, paused before lifting it to her mouth. She looked at Blair, her eyes appraising. “Because Cameron is motivated by a desire for justice. I’m not.”

  “You know, I really ought to hate you, but I just can’t.”

  “Why?” Valerie asked in a curious tone. “Because I love Diane and I don’t always make her happy?”

  “That. And because you love Cam.”

  “Ah,” Valerie said, not denying it. She finished the eggs and sipped her coffee. “We’re fortunate, you and I. Diane loves me and Cameron loves you. I try not to think about why I’m lucky enough that she does.”

  “I know. It makes my head hurt when I do.”

  Valerie nodded slowly. “Yes, among other things.”

  “Well?”

  Valerie leaned back and pushed a long, elegant hand through her hair. Her expression hardened and something dark moved through her eyes. “I do it because I’m angry. And because every time I win, I feel better. And, I suppose, I do it because I’m good at it.”

  Valerie had been a high-priced DC escort as part of her cover, but what—or who—she had been before that was a mystery. “Revenge?”

  “Possibly. Isn’t that just the other side of justice?”

  Blair laughed. “Well, I might say so, but I know Cam wouldn’t.”

  “No, Cameron is motivated by something far more righteous. She’s probably the only truly noble person I’ve ever met.”

  “Me too.”

  “It must be very hard to be angry with her.”

  Blair laughed again, understanding a little why Diane loved this aloof, unapproachable woman. Why Cam had. Valerie saw beneath the surface as if long-defended barriers were only so much air. “It isn’t hard at all to be angry with her. It’s just really hard to stay angry.”

  “I suspect she knows that.”

  “You really shouldn’t be so kind to me. I haven’t exactly been gracious.”

&
nbsp; “I hadn’t noticed.” Valerie lifted a shoulder. “Besides, you love Diane, and that’s enough for me.”

  Blair rose and took their plates and cups to the sink. “It’s really tiresome being surrounded by people whom it’s hard to dislike.”

  “Yes, I imagine it’s a chore.”

  Blair looked over her shoulder and Valerie smiled. In that instant, she was nothing but pure beauty. “Go to bed, Valerie. Diane will be happy that you’re home.”

  Valerie nodded and stood. “Do me a favor?”

  “All right.”

  “If Cameron is in trouble, call me.”

  “What makes you think she’s in trouble?” Blair wanted to trust Valerie, but she’d learned the hard way those who pretended friendship sometimes lied. And Valerie was a ghost—no one knew exactly who she worked for.

  “You’re here, unplanned, it appears.” Valerie gestured to Blair’s borrowed sweatshirt. “You’re supposed to be on your honeymoon—or what passes for that for someone in your situation. My guess is, Cameron is working something urgent and you either don’t know what, or you do and you’re not happy about it. That usually spells danger.”

  “I’m back to hating you again.”

  Valerie shrugged. “All the same—I am very good at what I do. And I have friends.”

  “I’d deal with the devil if it meant keeping Cam safe.”

  “Sometimes the devil is the only option, but best to leave it to those of us who have already sold their souls.” Valerie didn’t laugh.

  “I’ll remember.”

  “Remember too that Cameron is the best. Good night, Blair.”

  “Sleep well, Valerie.” Blair went back to bed and crawled under the covers with her clothes on, even though the room was warm. She didn’t want to be naked alone.

  5:35.

  She reached for her phone and pressed Cam’s number on speed dial.

  Cam answered at once. “You’re up early.”

  “I thought I might miss you. Boarding soon?”

  “In line now.”

  “Fly back to New York when you’re done down there.”

  Cam was silent.

  “What?” Blair asked, sitting up in bed.

  “I might not be able to get back there right away. Another meeting.”

  “Where?”

  “West Coast. I might be gone a few days.”

  “I want to see you before you go.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Blair’s stomach tightened. “I mean it, Cameron. You don’t disappear without explaining.”

  “I’m on the jetway. I have to go. I love you.”

  “I love you too, God damn it.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Cam?” But the line had gone silent.

  Blair dropped the phone on the bed and closed her eyes. She hated that she couldn’t keep Cam safe, but at least Valerie was the devil she knew.

  *

  The Ugly Rooster finally stopped crowing about 0430, and the bar slowly emptied out. Members with old ladies left for home. Others paired off and drifted into the rooms in the back for a quick fuck or three, depending on the amount of alcohol they’d consumed. The club had a strict no-drugs policy at the Rooster—the local LEOs tended to drop in unannounced too frequently to risk getting busted for drugs. The prospects and hopefuls who didn’t rate crib space and a few members too wasted to move were passed out on sofas, chairs, and even the pool table in the big back room off the bar.

  When the action finally ground to a halt, Sky finished her second beer. She’d been nursing it all night and it was warm and flat. She made a face, leaned over the bar, and poured the dregs into the stainless steel sink. “God, that stuff tastes like panther piss.”

  Loren slid off the adjacent stool and wrapped her arms around Sky’s waist from behind. Tugging Sky against her chest, she kissed the back of her neck. “I would’ve gotcha something in a bottle if you’d asked.”

  Sky turned and draped both arms around Loren’s shoulders. She nibbled on her lower lip. “Do tell. You’ve got what I want in a bottle?”

  “Not beer. Something better.”

  Sky wrapped one leg around Loren’s and drew her calf slowly up the back of Loren’s thigh until their lower bodies were entwined. Loren’s heat radiated through Sky’s jeans and made her throb. “You’ve been making a lot of promises tonight.”

  “Well, I guess I’ll have to come through, then.” Loren scanned the room. “Ready to leave?”

  “I hate to break it to you, but I’m not getting on that bike at ten below zero. Not even for a promise.”

  Loren grinned. “How’d you get here tonight?”

  “In a clunker of a rental that at least has something that passes for a heater.”

  “Then let’s take that. Unless”—Loren nodded toward the remaining empty overstuffed chair. It listed to one side, and the springs looked as if they were about to explode out of the seat—“you’d rather stay here. You can curl up in my lap.”

  Sky considered the tactical aspects of leaving versus staying. If they left, she’d have to negotiate the next step in the plan with Loren, whereas she was right here in the middle of where she wanted to be right now. She could make something happen if she was here, keep on top of events. After all, that’s why she’d come. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to be seen.”

  Loren grinned. “Won’t hurt my standing with the guys, that’s for sure.”

  “God,” Sky muttered. “Fine, as long as it’s your ass on the springs.”

  Laughing, Loren took Sky’s hand and pulled her to the far side of the room. She settled into the overstuffed chair and pulled Sky onto her lap.

  Sky drew her knees up and curled into Loren’s chest. Loren’s body was hot and hard. She smelled good. Sky nuzzled her face in Loren’s neck and because she wanted to kiss her, and there was no reason not to, she did. Loren murmured low in her throat and ran her hand up Sky’s side and over the curve of her breast. Sky arched and pressed her mouth to Loren’s ear. “I’m not fucking you in front of an audience.”

  “They’ve all checked out.”

  “Ramsey is somewhere in the back, and he was watching us.”

  “Somewhere else, then?”

  “Nice try,” Sky whispered. “But if we’re alone, it won’t be necessary.”

  “If you keep kissing me, it will.”

  “I guess I’ll have to stop, then.”

  Loren slid a hand to the back of Sky’s head and held her in place while she explored Sky’s mouth in a slow, deep kiss. When she stopped, she murmured, “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  “If we’re staying, I’m going to sleep,” Sky said, because what she wanted to do was push her hand under Loren’s shirt and stroke her skin. She wanted Loren’s hands on her, with nothing between them, and the want was too foreign to analyze when she’d been awake for two and a half days and was surrounded by people who might kill her if she slipped. Lust curled in her belly, a hungry hot thing, and she pushed it away. “Sorry to break it to you.”

  “I’m patient.” Loren tucked Sky’s head beneath her chin and folded her arms around her. “Go ahead and catch a few. I’ll be here.”

  The promise was just a line, but Sky liked the way it sounded. Too much. All the same, she closed her eyes and let herself fall.

  *

  Cam settled into the aisle seat next to Captain Wes Masters. “Sorry to drag you away at such short notice.”

  Wes buckled her seat belt. “No problem. It comes with the job.”

  “Settling in okay?”

  Wes Masters was the newly appointed chief of the White House Medical Unit—the president’s doctor. She’d come on board the WHMU in the midst of an investigation for the source of a leak somewhere close to the president. Wes and her new lover Secret Service Special Agent Evyn Daniels had been instrumental in Jennifer Pattee’s apprehension. In a few weeks when the president left for his campaign tour, Wes would be by his side the entire time.

  “So far,”
Wes said, “there’s been nothing about this job that resembles a routine to settle into. But I’m happy to be here.” The plane taxied down the runway at a few minutes past six. Wes lowered her voice despite the revving engines. “Any idea what we’re looking for?”

  “I’m not sure. We know the virus was stolen from Eugen, but not the who or the how,” Cam said. “We’ve got an AWOL lab tech named Angela Jones—an alias, I’m sure—and not much else. You might have a better chance than me to spot something that looks wrong.”

  Wes said, “I can talk to the team that developed the virus and find out how many people knew about it during the planning stages. This wasn’t accidental or a crime of opportunity. This took time to orchestrate. Whoever stole it knew what they wanted and knew how to handle a Level Four contagion. The inside person was carefully positioned well in advance. We need to know who knew.”

  “We’ll find out who had the skill and opportunity to get close to the virus, talk to fellow employees, run traces on employee records.” Cam shrugged. “I suspect they’ll be falsified, but you never know. A smart infiltrator uses part of the truth. Superficial background checks will often pick up those few factual references, and that will be enough to satisfy more employers than you might think. Even federal agencies.”

  “We need to be sure there isn’t another batch missing,” Wes said.

  “Once we’re on the trail, you’ll need to be ready for anything.”

  Wes’s gaze was steady, calm. “I will be.”

  Cam would have to trust that Wes and her unit would be able to deal with any emergency because the president wasn’t the only one at risk. Her job was to see Wes was never needed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When roll call ended at 0600, Jane followed her father to headquarters and asked permission to speak with him. Graves nodded and walked into his office. Jane handed him a half dozen human-silhouette shaped, time-stamped targets and silently stood at parade rest as he studied the bullet patterns on each one. He didn’t look at her, and she could read nothing in his expression as he scanned first one, then another. After placing the last one face down on his desk, he walked around and sat behind it. “There’s a little drift to the left that you’ll want to attend to, but the head shots are tightly grouped and the body hits focused in the center of body mass. Kill shots, all of them. Well done.”