Honor Bound

by Radclyffe

  Cam didn’t answer. She was having trouble getting enough air, and black spots danced across her field of vision. She could barely make out Doyle’s face.

  “Savard,” Mac said urgently, his voice a harsh whisper. “Can you please get the commander out of here and see to her arm?”

  Savard glanced once more in her superior’s direction, assuring herself that he really was leaving, then turned toward the Secret Service agents. She gasped before she could stop herself when she saw the widening stain on Cameron Roberts’s jacket. A rivulet of blood ran from under the end of her sleeve onto her hand and was in danger of dripping onto the floor.

  “Right,” she said, stepping quickly to Cam’s side and putting one arm around her waist. “Come with me, Commander.”

  “I need to speak with Blair,” Cam said, attempting to pull away. Her head was spinning, and she couldn’t feel her hand, but she could still think. And all she could think was that Doyle wanted to put Blair out there so Loverboy could have another try at her. I’ll kill him for that.

  “I’ll see to Ms. Powell,” Mac said.

  “No.” Cam’s voice was oddly flat. “She can’t leave. Must talk to her. I...need Taylor’s report. Want the FBI’s...” She faltered, dizzy and in real danger of vomiting.

  Savard tightened her grip as Cam swayed. She sent Mac a warning look.

  “I’ll see to that, Commander,” Mac responded immediately. “Go on, Savard,” he urged. He was afraid that Cam was about to pass out. He hated to see her in pain, and he knew that she’d be furious if any of the other agents saw her when she was physically compromised like this.

  To his great relief, Cam finally let Savard lead her away. That crisis averted, he steeled himself for a meeting with Egret. Hopefully, she would not ask why he was briefing her instead of the commander. He had never been very good at subterfuge.

  An open suitcase lay empty on the bed while Blair paced in front of it. The revelation that Loverboy had been intentionally targeting her security detail had shaken her badly. Learning that Jeremy Finch had been killed because of her—that Cam had almost died for the same reason—was unthinkable, beyond comprehension, and more frightening than the potential threat to her own life. She felt responsible, and guilty, and trapped by circumstances, and she wanted to pound something.

  Doyle said I could go home. I should just go. I don’t need her permission. Damn her.

  It didn’t help her irritable mood in the least that all she could think about was Cameron Roberts’s forthright declaration of love. Because those few words had rocked her more than anything else that had happened, and that really scared her. Just when she thought she’d go stir crazy, a knock sounded on the door.

  “Who is it?” she barked.

  “Mac Phillips, Ms. Powell.”

  “Come in.”

  At his entry, she frowned in his direction and noticed that he looked vaguely uneasy. That was unusual for him. “What is it, Mac?”

  “The commander requests that you remain here until we’re completely briefed. SAC Doyle was...uh...premature in advising you that you could leave.”

  “Why doesn’t she tell me herself?”

  He hesitated. “She’s unavailable.”

  “Unavailable?” Blair studied him, and for an instant he dropped his gaze. Her heart raced—something was wrong. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” he said quickly. “She’s just...indisposed.”

  “Nothing indisposes her short of a nuclear meltdown. Where is she?”

  Mac sighed and conceded defeat.

  Blair knocked softly, but she didn’t wait for an answer. She pushed open the door to the bathroom adjoining Cam’s bedroom and stepped into the small space. Savard knelt on the floor in front of the Secret Service chief, who was seated on the closed toilet, her shirt off and her head back, eyes closed. Cam’s face was beaded with sweat, and her skin looked gray in the harsh fluorescent light.

  Blair’s stomach tightened. God, I hate this.

  “What happened?” she asked sharply, moving around Savard to see what the FBI agent was doing. “Mac said she was indisposed.”

  Then she got her first look at the wound, and fell silent. Indisposed. That’s a pretty word for this horror.

  Savard held a gauze pad over a long, gaping laceration in Cam’s forearm that steadily oozed dark blood. The surrounding burn was blistered and weeping, and her entire arm was swollen to twice its normal size.

  “She tore open a bit of the burn here. The bleeding’s almost stopped.”

  “Who did that?”

  There was a dangerous tone in the first daughter’s voice, and Savard chose not to answer.

  “Let me see what’s under that pad,” Blair ordered, then bent over to look when Savard complied. It was obvious the wound had bled heavily. She didn’t need to see the discarded pile of soaked sponges to tell that. All she had to do was look at Cam. “She needs a hospital.”

  Cam opened her eyes then and after a moment was able to focus on Blair’s worried face. “I’m all right. Savard has it.”

  Blair’s hands were shaking, and she knew her voice wasn’t quite steady. So much blood.

  “Renee,” Blair said with as much force as she could muster, “either put her in a car and drive her, or I’ll do it myself.”

  “Blair,” Cam said softly, making an effort to straighten up. The movement sent her stomach roiling and, sinking back, she was forced to wait a second before continuing. “If I check into a hospital I’m likely to be relieved, at least temporarily.”

  “I don’t care,” Blair said more firmly, regaining her composure as the initial shock of Cam’s injury began to subside. “Mac is here. He can take care of things.” She edged closer to stroke her fingers over Cam’s forehead, brushing a damp lock of hair away from her eyes. “You’re cold,” she murmured, struggling with the fist of anxiety in her gut.

  “A little.” Cam tried not to shiver. Man, I do not want to vomit right now.

  Finally focusing on the fact that Cam was wearing only a thin sleeveless silk undershirt, Blair looked around for something to cover her. The dress shirt lying on the floor, rumpled and bloodstained, was useless. Eyes narrowing, she also regarded Savard kneeling on the floor, pressed tightly between Cam’s outstretched legs. I may have to kill Renee, but perhaps not just now.

  “There’s a blanket at the foot of the bed,” Savard remarked without looking up. She applied a topical antibiotic burn ointment to Cam’s arm. “Sorry,” she added when Cam winced.

  “It’s okay.”

  Blair was gone only for a few seconds. When she returned, Cam was sitting up a little straighter, obviously working hard to hide her discomfort.

  “That’s not going to work, Roberts,” Blair commented darkly, covering Cam’s upper body with the blanket. “You still need to go to a hospital.”

  “Ma’am”—Savard was efficiently wrapping a soft gauze bandage from Cam’s palm to her biceps—“I’m certified as a physician’s assistant as well as an EMT. They’re not going to do anything for her at a hospital that I haven’t already done.”

  Blair turned to her, an angry retort on her lips. Renee Savard met her eyes calmly, a soothing certainty in her gaze. “She’ll be all right.”

  “You’re sure?” Blair had moved back to Cam’s side and, without realizing it, had rested her hand on the back of Cam’s neck. She ran her fingers gently through the dark strands of hair, caressing her softly.

  “Yes, ma’am, I am.” If Savard noticed Blair’s actions, she gave no sign of it.

  “I just need to lie down for an hour or so,” Cam insisted, feeling better now that the pain was starting to abate.

  Blair removed her hand and took a step away. Her tone was dull with resignation. “Will you see that she does, please, Agent Savard?” She wanted to stay with her and knew that she couldn’t. Not here, not under these circumstances. It was agony to leave her.

  Savard’s voice was gentle with sympathy, “I will, Ms. Powell. Y
ou needn’t worry.”

  Blair studied Renee Savard closely for a moment, then looked at Cam. “For once, Commander, let someone take care of you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mac was on the sofa, looking exhausted, when Savard returned to the room. “Is she okay?”

  “More or less.” Savard sank down on the couch next to him and blew out a deep breath. “She’s got to be hurting like hell, but it’s nothing that won’t heal.”

  They regarded one another cautiously, each trying to judge the other’s frame of mind. They were on opposite teams, in a manner of speaking, and had only been working together a few days. A few days that felt like a century.

  Since they had both seen the incident, Mac asked, “Do you have any idea what that was all about?”

  Savard chose her words carefully. She was acutely aware of the fact that she was only on temporary loan to the Secret Service and that ultimately she would have to survive within the hierarchy of the FBI. On the other hand, she would never defend someone like Patrick Doyle, even if it did mean risking her career.

  “Special Agent in Charge Doyle does not confide in me, Agent Phillips,” she said. “However, speaking only as an observer, I would say the man has a hard-on for Blair.”

  Mac blinked, then grinned broadly. “Well then, he’s going to wait a long time for a little relief.”

  “I’d say that’s the truth.” Savard grinned back.

  Turning serious, Mac inquired, “Any idea why?”

  Savard shrugged. “I don’t know what’s going on with him. At first, I thought it was just Bureau politics. You know how that goes—two chiefs together on the same case are like two pit bulls in a small pen. But it seems like it’s more than that, and I don’t know him well enough to speculate.”

  “It’s bad enough that we have to worry about Egret.” Mac propped his feet up on the coffee table, suddenly aware of how very tired he was. “Now we have to worry about Doyle and the commander.”

  “I don’t really think you have to worry about your commander,” Savard responded. “She’s a little torn up at the moment, but once she has her feet back under her, I’m sure she can handle him. She didn’t get as far as she has by letting herself get pushed around by men who resent her position or her competence. I think we should all concentrate on catching Loverboy and let the commander handle Doyle herself.”

  Mac sighed in agreement. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  “Have you seen Stark?” Savard asked.

  “The last time I saw her she was talking to Lindsey Ryan in the kitchen.”

  Savard raised an eyebrow and stood. “Was she now?”

  Mac watched her walk away and wondered why he felt as if he never really knew quite what was going on around him.

  It was just after 0100 when Cam stepped into the darkened hallway. She closed her door noiselessly behind her and turned, meeting the eyes of Renee Savard, who stood night watch at the window nearby. The hallway was in shadow, but there was enough light coming from the lamps in the living room to illuminate their faces. They studied one another silently. Then, very deliberately, Savard turned her back to Cam and looked out the window into the night.

  Cam crossed the few feet to the opposite side of the hall and opened the door to Blair Powell’s bedroom. She stepped inside and stopped, waiting for her eyes to adjust.

  “Is this an official visit, Commander?” Blair asked quietly from the darkness.

  “No.”

  “Then I’ll leave the lights off.”

  Cam made her way to the side of the bed and eased down on the edge, reaching for Blair’s hand with her uninjured one. “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to worry you like that.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Better.” She hesitated a beat but knew she had to tell her. “The damn thing hurts like hell, but I’m not dizzy and my stomach has settled. I’m okay.”

  “Did you come here to give me a personal medical report?” Blair asked, her tone sharp now. Relieved of some of her worry, she remembered how angry she was. She sat up against the pillows, acutely aware of the fact that she was naked under the light sheet. “Because if that’s why you’re here, you can consider your duty done and leave.”

  “No.” Cam circled her thumb in the palm of Blair’s hand. Even though Blair had opened the windows, the late July air hung hot around them. Cam was sweating in a sleeveless cotton T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and she brushed moisture from her eyes with her injured hand. “I came because I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about you—in here. In bed.”

  Blair’s pulse began to hammer, but she steadfastly ignored it. This was one time she was not going to let her body overrule her better judgment. “This isn’t going to work, Cam.”

  A cold hand closed around Cam’s heart, making it hard for her to breathe, but she answered calmly, “Why not?”

  “You know why not. We’ve been all through this before, and nothing’s changed. I can’t stand caring about you and knowing that you might be hurt because of me. I can’t do it. I don’t want to risk feeling anything for you.”

  “If we were crossing the street,” Cam said as if Blair had not just driven a knife into her depths, “and a car were about to hit me, would you push me out of the way even though you might be hurt yourself?”

  “Yes, of course,” Blair said softly. “But the odds of that happening are almost zero.”

  “I know.” Cam moved her hand to Blair’s shoulder, running her fingertips lightly along the ridge of Blair’s collarbone. “And the odds of me dying to save you are just as slim. We’ve just had a run of lousy luck.”

  Blair laughed harshly, trapping Cam’s hand in hers. The undeniable excitement that the mere brush of Cam’s fingertips elicited was too damn distracting. “Well, I’m not trusting anything to luck. Either you resign from my detail, or I don’t want anything to do with you beyond our daily briefings.”

  Cam leaned forward and brushed her lips over the tip of Blair’s shoulder. “No,” she said very softly.

  Blair chose to ignore the swift stab of desire that raced through her. “I’m sorry?” she managed, forcing her voice cold.

  “No,” Cam repeated, moving her mouth a fraction of an inch closer to the base of Blair’s neck. She was leaning over her now, breasts brushing lightly against Blair’s bare arm. She felt her nipples stiffen beneath her T-shirt and knew that Blair could feel them, too.

  “It’s not about sex,” Blair said harshly, all too aware of the fire burning hotter every second. She was shaking lightly, her skin alive to Cam’s touch.

  Cam took Blair’s hand and pressed it to her own chest. Her heart pounded against Blair’s palm. “Neither is this,” she whispered. “I’ve tried so hard not to want you. I’ve tried so hard not to need you. I can’t help it. I can’t stop it. We didn’t choose this, either of us.” She lightly kissed Blair’s fingers and placed them back on her heart. “I can’t walk away from it. I can’t walk away from loving you, and I can’t walk away from doing what I know how to do to keep you safe. Please don’t ask me to.”

  Don’t do this to me. Blair turned her face away, struggling to resist the pull of Cam’s words and the sweet seduction of her touch. “I don’t want you to love me,” she protested, her voice breaking.

  Cam pressed her lips to the hollow of Blair’s throat. “Yes,” she said very softly as she reached under the sheet and gently cupped Blair’s breast, “you do.”

  Unable to control the surge of desire, Blair moaned and arched her back. “Damn you, Cameron.” But the fine edge of longing was clear in her voice.

  “Blair,” Cam murmured, nudging the sheet aside. She moved her lips over Blair’s chest, found her nipple, and pulled it carefully between her lips. She sucked it slowly as it grew hard and tight, then bit lightly, making Blair groan.

  She was hard, too, and wet, and a pulse pounded demandingly between her thighs. She sat back, gasping with sudden urgency.

  “Help me get my cloth
es off.”

  Blair forced herself to focus through a haze of arousal and saw Cam struggling to pull the T-shirt off one-handed. “Here,” she said quickly, sitting forward. “Let me do that.”

  She carefully worked the fabric down over the bandage on Cam’s arm, then directed Cam to stand up, reaching for the ties on the sweatpants. After Cam kicked free of her clothes, Blair caught her uninjured hand and pulled her down to lie beside her on the bed. She ran her hand along the length of Cam’s supine body—over her abdomen, down her thigh, and back up the inside of her leg.

  “You’re distracting me again.” Cam lifted her hips, breathing rapidly.

  “I like distracting you, remember?” Blair murmured. She ran her fingertips through the thick, wet heat between Cam’s legs, her breath catching in her throat as her own body clenched in response.

  Cam made an effort to move on top and gasped sharply as she pushed up on her injured arm.

  “What is it?” Blair asked anxiously, sitting up.

  “Just my arm,” Cam replied, attempting to direct Blair back onto the pillows. The movement drew another groan.

  “Lie back, Cam,” Blair said firmly. As she spoke, she took Cam’s shoulders gently and pushed her down. “Let me.”

  Cam did not protest. She was still tingling from Blair’s brief caress, and she was more than ready for more.

  “I actually enjoy being distracted,” she confessed.

  Laughing lightly, Blair fit herself between Cam’s legs, then pressed her cheek to Cam’s breast. She brushed her lips over a nipple, teasing a moan from her lover, before kissing her way slowly down the length of Cam’s abdomen.

  In response, Cam closed her eyes with a long, low sigh of surrender. She lifted her hips as Blair’s palms pressed against her thighs, opening her; arched her back, muscles tightening, as Blair’s lips closed on her; and caught back a groan, trembling, as Blair’s tongue tormented her. Blair’s tender, knowing touch banished the pain and the fatigue and the worry.

  “You are so good,” Cam whispered faintly, her fingers trailing through Blair’s hair. She was very close and yet desperate not to come. “So good.”