by Radclyffe
"Wonderful." Diane caught her lip, nearly ambushed by a swell of tears. "That's just exactly what I need."
Blair held fast to Diane's hand as they walked toward the house, her gaze fixed on Cam, who stood on the back deck watching them approach. There were things about her lover she would never truly understand—the fierce drive for justice, the sense of honor that motivated her every decision—and sometimes, like the woman beside her, she just had to trust her heart.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
S tark sat on the side of the bed watching Savard dress, uneasiness coiling in the pit of her stomach like a viper poised to strike. Her fingers cramped as she clenched her hands tightly around the edge of the mattress. The covers were thrown back, exposing the crumpled sheets where they had spent the last few hours curled around one another. How quickly life could move from sated comfort to uncertainty. A litany of entreaties rushed through her mind, but she spoke none aloud.
I don't want you to go. I have a really bad feeling about this. You 're not even really recovered from getting shot, and I know you 're still a little shaky from what happened on 9/11. You 're not yourself. You 're not at your best. You're tired, I know you're tired. That's when you get hurt. Jesus, I don't want you to go.
"I'll probably be back tonight," Savard said, tucking a black polo shirt into jeans only a shade lighter. She picked up her holster from the dresser, automatically checked her weapon, and hooked it to her belt on her right hip. She reached for the FBI flak jacket that she'd left over the back of the chair when she'd selected the clothes from the closet. She pulled it on and swept her right hand beneath the garment to reach her gun, assuring herself that nothing impaired her draw. "If I'm delayed, I'll call."
"Okay." You 're not dressing for a meeting.
Savard turned and looked at Stark from across the room. "Sweetie, don't worry."
"I'm not. Just, you know, be careful."
"I can feel you worrying from over here." Savard crossed the room and gently placed both hands on Stark's shoulders, then bent low to look into her face. "I'll probably spend the entire day debriefing. You know how slowly things happen once the bosses get involved."
Stark nodded. "Well, in case anything.,.interesting happens, you'll...be fine."
"Paula," Savard said gently, settling into Stark's lap and wrapping both arms around her shoulders. "This is my job. Just like yours is to take care of Blair. I know what that means. I know when you walk out the door with her what that means. If I let myself think about it, it would eat me up."
"You're right," Stark mumbled, burying her face in the angle between Savard's neck and shoulder, embracing her. "I just love you."
"Mmm, and I love you." Savard eased her palm beneath Stark's chin and tilted her face up. She kissed her, taking her time, although she had very little to spare. She knew the commander was waiting for her, but she owed Paula this one moment. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that every goodbye could be the last, and she wanted to be certain to say everything that she felt in her heart. She let her mouth slide over Stark's, soft and warm, before she slipped her tongue inside for a final slow caress. "I'll call you later."
"Talk to you soon," Stark said, forcing a smile as she reluctantly let her go.
*
Blair and Diane reached the back porch just in time for Blair to hear Cam's final words.
"...want in on it. We've earned it Fine. Yes. Thank you." She closed the phone abruptly just as Blair reached her. "Hey." She kissed her. "I've only got a minute. Sorry."
"Who was that?" Blair asked.
Diane squeezed Blair's hand, "I'm going to go inside and take a shower."
Blair didn't answer, still studying Cam, as she repeated, "Who was that?"
"Stewart Carlisle," Cam said, naming her immediate superior.
"And he's going to do what? Make sure you get your shot at these guys?" Blair grasped the front of Cam's leather flight jacket and gave her a shake. "You promised me. You promised me that you'd stay out of this. Cameron, God damn it. You promised."
"I know. I meant it." Cam covered Blair's hands with hers, not resisting. "I do mean it. I said I'd stay in the back lines, and I will. I swear."
Blair yanked her forward and kissed her hard. She felt her lips bruise and knew Cam's would be sore too, but she didn't care. If she couldn't keep her from going, couldn't keep her from danger, she would make her feel what there was to lose if she put herself at risk. This love, this life they had made, that was what she wanted Cam to remember when she had to make a choice between her desire to see justice done and her own safety.
Cam let herself be taken, helpless before Blair's onslaught. She was breathless from the force of Blair's demanding mouth. She wasn't aware of being pushed until her back smacked up against the deck post and Blair pressed into her. She finally jerked her head away from the kiss, but she couldn't escape the havoc Blair's hands played on her body. "Jesus. I have to be able to think sometime today, baby. Give me a break."
"I want you to think," Blair muttered, her mouth on Cam's neck. "You think about me today, Cameron. You think about making me love you, about making me need you. And you get your ass back here in one piece."
"I never think of anyone but you," Cam said before she claimed her mouth with as much ferocity as Blair had taken hers. After another hungry moment, she pulled away. "I love you."
"Yeah, yeah." Resting her forehead on Cam's shoulder, Blair tenderly smoothed her hands over the front of Cam's leather jacket, then inside to gently caress her chest. "Like that's the answer to everything."
"Isn't if?" Cam smiled and kissed her forehead. "Be back soon, baby." Then she slipped from Blair's embrace and strode down the stairs and around the building, out of sight.
Blair leaned against the post, watching the sunrise over the ocean. It was so indescribable, so heartbreakingly beautiiul. Like love. Before the moment was lost, she hurried inside, dropping her jacket on the floor along the way, and set a fresh canvas on the easel. Her gaze on the sunrise, her heart with Cam, she began to paint.
*
Savard heard the clump-clump-clump of rotors whirring before the black dot on the horizon became distinguishable as an MH-6 Little Bird—an Army Special Ops light assault helicopter. It was one of the smallest attack aircraft in the Army's arsenal, used primarily for insertion and extraction operations. Ordinarily, it carried six combat troops on its external platforms, but currently the ramps were unoccupied. She glanced at Cam. "Interesting form of transportation to a debriefing, Commander."
"There's been a slight change in plans," Cam said, her eyes on the descending aircraft. "It seems there is some degree of urgency since we have a breakdown in the integrity of our team and our intel may not be secure."
Breakdown in the integrity of our team. Savard played that phrase around in her mind. She deciphered it to mean that someone higher up knew that Valerie was gone, and that she had most likely informed the CIA not only of the location of the paramilitary camp but also of the evidence pointing to Matheson's terrorist link. Our intel may not be secure. And someone with a lot of pull was obviously worried that someone else would get to the party first. Her vote would be the Department of Defense. They could mobilize this kind of action pretty damn fast.
"It's rather unusual, isn't it," Savard said quietly, "to deploy the military against civilians? I would think it would fall to us in the FBI to take these guys down."
"Ordinarily it would be your people," Cam replied just as quietly. "But these aren't ordinary times. And after the kind of standoff that happened at Waco, with all the publicity that went with it, I expect even the White House is willing to bend the rules to get this done quickly, quietly, and efficiently."
"And...we're going along?" Savard couldn't quite keep the excitement out of her voice.
Cam smiled with grim satisfaction. "We are."
"Uh, if you don't mind me asking, how...?"
"I made some calls."
"Son of a bitch. I mean, than
k you, Commander." Savard grinned. I'll just bet it was a few calls—probably starting with the chief of staff. Her eyes glinted with anticipation. Her whispered words were lost in the roar of the engine as the attack helicopter settled amidst a cloud of dust and debris. Here we come, you bastards.
Heads down, Savard and Cam ran across the tarmac as the door of the helicopter swung open. As soon as they climbed into the body, an Army officer in combat garb with lieutenant's bars on his shoulders crouched down in front of them. The helicopter began to ascend.
"Which one of you is Roberts?" he shouted, handing them headsets to muffle the motor and to allow them to speak to one another in flight.
"I am," Cam yelled back, situating the headgear and flicking the transmitter switch. She grabbed a strap that hung from the ceiling to steady herself and pointed to Savard. "Special Agent Savard, FBI."
The lieutenant nodded to both of them. "We'll refuel in Virginia and rendezvous with the other aircraft, then proceed directly to the target. We've been advised that you are to be considered embedded members of the team. You all will be in the strike zone."
"Understood," Cam replied.
"There're vests under the benches. Do you require assault rifles?"
"We're armed," Cam said. "We'll be fine, Lieutenant."
He studied her face for a moment, then nodded as if satisfied. "Enjoy the ride." Then he settled back on his heels, one hand curled around another hanging strap, closed his eyes, and appeared to go to sleep.
Savard glanced at Cam, raised her eyebrows, and grinned. She mouthed the words, Let's rock 'n roll.
Cam grinned and nodded back.
*
Blair stepped out onto the deck carrying two cups of coffee. She handed one to Stark.
"Thank you," Stark said, taking the mug. The sun was up, but the air was still chilled, and although it usually didn't bother her, this morning she was cold. She shivered inside her regulation-issue nylon jacket.
"Hell of a morning so far," Blair said.
"Yeah. How's Diane?"
"She's okay. She's willing to believe there's a good reason for what Valerie did, at least for now."
"I'm sure there's a reason," Stark grunted. "How good it is depends on whose team you play for."
"Well, she never really was part of this team."
"Maybe not officially, but we trusted her. Felicia's pretty steamed. They worked pretty close on this one."
"Do you know what's happening?"
"Not for sure. No."
"Would you tell me if you did?"
Stark met Blair's seeking gaze. "The reason that I think Commander Roberts has been so successful heading this detail is because she never kept you in the dark. Yes, I would tell you."
Blair smiled softly. "You don't think it's because I've fallen in love with her and will do anything she says?"
A second passed while Stark struggled to compose her features, but finally she surrendered and laughed. "Uh, no, that had never crossed my mind."
"Well, just so you don't think that I'm always so easy."
"I think there's nothing easy about the position you're in," Stark said seriously. "And the only thing I want to do is make it as uncomplicated for you as possible."
Blair leaned her hip against the railing, her expression contemplative as she considered Stark's uncomplicated honesty and essential goodness. "You know, I owe you an apology."
Stark looked confused. "I'm sorry?"
"For that night in Colorado."
"No, you don't," Stark said. "Everything that happened that night was mutual."
"You're not blushing. I don't even know how to interpret that."
"Let's just say I'm not embarrassed about something that will always be very special."
To her consternation, Blair found herself blushing. "Well. Thank you."
"Renee doesn't know."
Blair smiled. "And she never will unless you tell her."
"She doesn't seem to care about the past all that much."
"Smart woman."
"Yeah," Stark said with a sigh. She sipped her coffee and studied the empty beach. "I feel bad because sometimes I wish she weren't an FBI agent."
"That makes sense to me. I bet there's times she wishes you weren't a Secret Service agent, either."
Stark nodded. "She said something like that this morning."
"And I don't imagine either one of you is planning on retiring."
"No. Not likely." Stark straightened, shaking off the melancholy. They'd strayed far beyond the boundaries dictated by their professional relationship long ago, and although she welcomed the friendship, she also had a job to do. "So, we should discuss your agenda for the day."
"My agenda?" Blair grimaced. "Anything that will keep my mind off where the hell my lover is and what trouble she's getting herself into."
"I'm sure the commander will be fine," Stark said with absolute certainty. "Anyhow, they're probably spending the whole day meeting with one committee after another."
Blair narrowed her eyes. "You don't really believe that, do you?"
"I wouldn't," she admitted, "except I can't see anyone staging any kind of action so quickly. It takes too much planning, and there's going to be too many people who want to be in charge." Stark shook her head. "I'm sure they'll be meeting with the president's security advisers and maybe the head of the Intelligence committee. That's it."
"Dial the White House on your secure line," Blair said.
Stark blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I want to talk to Lucinda, and I know that no one is supposed to know where we are. So scramble it for me."
"Uh, that's probably not the best idea—"
Blair laughed. "This is where you get to be reminded what a pain in the ass it is being my security chief. Because I can call anyone I want to anytime, anyplace. So if you don't want me to use the phone in the living room—"
"Just one minute, Ms. Powell," Stark said formally, opening her phone. She rapidly punched a series of numbers and held it out to Blair. "There you go."
"Thank you," Blair said sweetly. As Stark started to walk down the steps, apparently to give her privacy, Blair added, "There's no need to go. This involves you too. Hello, Luce? It's Blair."
"Blair. Everything all right?"
"No problem. Well, unless you take into consideration that I'm in hiding because my lover doesn't trust anyone, including you."
"I think for the time being it's reasonable to allow Commander Roberts to make those decisions. The president has every confidence in her."
"Uh-huh. Everyone thinks she's superhuman. That's sort of why I'm calling. All this confidence everyone has in her. Where exactly is my lover?" She gripped the railing as she waited for the answer and heard only a faint buzz in the background.
"I'm afraid I don't have an answer on that at the moment. I can assure you, however—"
"Is it that you don't want to tell me or you can't tell me?"
"Both, and by now, you should know the reasons why."
Blair thought she heard a sigh, but she couldn't be certain, and it would certainly be out of character. Before she could demand more information, Lucinda spoke again.
"If you call me back in approximately two hours, I may have more to tell you. That's the best I can do, Blair."
Blair looked at her watch. "Don't go anywhere. I'll call back in exactly two hours." She hung up and looked at Stark, whose face was a study in barely suppressed anxiety. "I don't think they're in a meeting."
Chapter Thirty
T he helicopter set down in a small unpaved landing zone in the middle of a forested area where three other Little Birds, fully equipped with combat troops, waited on the ground. A fuel truck bounced across the rutted field, and when the lieutenant jumped down to supervise the refueling, Cam reached beneath the narrow bench and extracted one of the protective vests. She tossed it to Savard and released another from its restraining clip for herself.
"We let the commandos sweep the front line. I
imagine there are more men like the four who hit the Aerie in this camp. You weren't there that morning, but these guys are well trained and very well armed."
"You and your team handled them pretty well, Commander." Savard's eyes glittered with a dangerous combination of adrenaline and anger. "Without body armor."
"We were lucky." She didn't think there would ever come a day when she didn't see Foster with his service weapon leveled at Blair's chest. She pushed the image from her mind. She wanted justice. Even more, she wanted retribution. But not at a price that Blair would ultimately have to pay. "We're here to see that these men don't get away with treason and terrorism. We're here to see it, not do it."
"I'm going in with my weapon drawn." Savard's gaze lost focus as she remembered the very earth tremble beneath her feet as the Towers came down. "They'll never be able to pay enough for what they did, no matter how small a part they had in it."
"If you've got something to prove, Agent," Cam said quietly, "this isn't the place for it. We bring up the rear, once the area has been cleared. That's an order."
"Yes, ma'am," Savard said smartly.
A clean-shaven redhead of about forty clambered into the helicopter. "I'm Major Simons, in charge of this operation. We'll be airborne in five minutes."
Cam held out her hand. "Cameron Roberts, Secret Service." She indicated Savard. "Renee Savard, FBI."
"Agents," the major nodded. "Flight time is thirty-five minutes. We're working off satellite photographs, but we've got a pretty good picture of the layout. We're going to put down right outside their front gate. I would imagine there'll be sentries posted, if the vehicles we've been able to identify there are any indication of their organization. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was a U.S. Army installation."
"Weekends are when these guys like to play soldiers. There may be a full complement of personnel down there." Cam presumed the strike had been organized so quickly precisely because it was Saturday and Matheson and most of the officers were likely to be present. "Do you have any idea of the numbers?"
