Honor Bound

by Radclyffe

  “Egret will remain sequestered here for the immediate future. She’s agreed to temporarily postpone her plans for San Francisco, but we only have a two-and-a-half-week window until Paris. Canceling that trip is also an option, but not a very viable one. Ryan feels that if we change Egret’s public itinerary so drastically, it concedes power to Loverboy, which in turn may make him bolder...and more dangerous. I agree. Despite the increased visibility, we’ll have to travel.”

  Doyle waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s unreasonable to keep her out of sight indefinitely.” He carefully avoided the suggestion that Blair’s visibility was one sure way to draw out their UNSUB. Unconsciously, he rubbed the fading abrasion on his neck. “On the other hand, offering Loverboy a meet is the best way to get him out in the open.”

  Both Mac and Stark stiffened, and Cam knew one or both of them was about to vehemently protest. She raised her left hand an inch off the table, and both of them settled back into their chairs, their faces set and angry.

  Very evenly, her voice completely controlled, she said, “Special Agent in Charge Doyle, I am certain that you are not suggesting that we use the president’s daughter as bait for a proven psychopathic killer.”

  “Of course not,” Doyle answered woodenly, his jaw muscles bunching as he clenched his teeth.

  “Then we needn’t pursue that line of thought any further,” Cam responded, leashing her own anger. “Egret continues to receive regular e-mail from him. He’s using hacked IP numbers and routing messages through random computers, so he is still not traceable. As was previously decided, there has been no attempt to block his messages, because it’s our only means of judging his state of mind and potentially predicting his moves.”

  “Well, that’s been a royal failure,” Doyle remarked harshly.

  Cam ignored him and continued. “Agent Ryan suggests that we communicate with him via e-mail, as Egret, in an attempt to get more information about his plans. This seems logical. An agent with computer and electronics expertise will be joining my team later today. She can begin the exchange after Loverboy’s next contact.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence as everyone realized that this new agent would be a replacement for Jeremy Finch.

  Smiling smugly, Doyle broke the silence. “I talked with my director on the way here. He agrees with me that we need to be more proactive if we’re going to resolve this situation.”

  Cam didn’t move an inch although every muscle became rigid. “Meaning?”

  “We’re planning on initiating contact, just as you suggested, Roberts,” Doyle stated with an unmistakable note of condescension. “But we’re not interested in dialoguing. Our priority is to neutralize the threat.”

  “And how do you intend to do that?”

  “We’re going to set up a meet.”

  “A decoy operation?” Mac exclaimed in surprise. “This guy is a bomber. You can’t send someone in undercover when she might be walking into a bomb.”

  “We assessed the risk to be acceptable,” Doyle said brusquely. Straightening a pile of folders in front of him, he added, “We expect it will take several days to put things in place. We’re bringing in our own person to establish electronic contact with him.”

  “It’s a risky operation, Doyle,” Cam said quietly. “There are other avenues we can pursue first.”

  “We’ve all waited long enough.” Doyle's eyes bored into Cam, their expression accusatory. “Too long.”

  There was little Cam could say about an FBI operation. It wasn’t what she would’ve done, but her primary concern was Blair’s security, and she admitted to herself reluctantly that the FBI were well within their rights to attempt apprehension their own way.

  “I’d appreciate it if you kept us informed of the timetable.” She pushed back her chair, having registered her dissent. That was all she could do. “In the meantime, we’ll continue to analyze the videos and photos from the park and monitor electronic contacts.”

  “No problem there, Roberts.” This time, Doyle couldn’t hide his triumphant grin. “You’ll be informed since we’re going to use one of your agents to work the decoy.”

  Cam placed both hands flat on the table and leaned forward, her body coiled with tension as if she might spring from her chair. Her voice dropped low, dangerously low. “No, Doyle, you are not. My agents are Secret Service agents. They are not decoys for the FBI.”

  “It’s already been cleared.” Doyle shrugged. “We need someone with firsthand knowledge of Egret in case we get into a situation where a verbal exchange with the UNSUB is necessary. I can’t brief a new agent on the kinds of things he might ask. The decoy needs to be one of yours.”

  For a minute, Cam couldn’t think through her fury. Doyle had gone behind her back and essentially conscripted one of her agents for a potentially lethal mission. She stood, struggling to maintain her composure. None of them had had much sleep in the last seventy-two hours, and she was riding the thin edge of control. She had lost one man already. She was not going to lose another.

  “This is not going to happen, Doyle.”

  “It’s not up to you,” Doyle said, rising also. “It’s been approved, and your agent has already accepted the assignment.”

  Cam glanced quickly at Stark, who shook her head almost imperceptibly. Clearly, she knew nothing of Doyle’s plan.

  “This meeting is over,” Cam snapped as she turned and walked out the door. Another second and she would have had her hands on his throat. Again.

  Cam stalked through the command room and barked, “Grant! With me.”

  Ellen Grant jumped to her feet and hurried to follow her tall commander as she pushed through the door into the outer hallway. The elevator ride down to the lobby was chillingly silent. As they approached the double glass doors, Grant felt compelled to explain.

  “Commander, I—”

  “In a minute, Grant.” Cam was still working hard to quell her desire to punch Patrick Doyle in his arrogant face. Ellen Grant was her agent—hers to command, hers to protect. He had come between her and someone she was responsible for, and that was a serious miscalculation on his part. She could tolerate his personal affronts, but she would not tolerate anyone interfering with what was hers.

  Grant set her jaw and prepared herself for a dressing-down. It would be hard to take coming from Roberts, because she respected her boss.

  They crossed the street, and Cam unlocked the ornate park gates, stepping through with Grant on her heels. Once they were inside, Cam slowed so that Grant could walk by her side and finally looked at her. “Do you want to tell me what happened between you and SAC Doyle?”

  “He contacted me this morning while you were on the phone with Washington.” Grant stared straight ahead, her tone subdued. “He advised me he would need me for an undercover operation to apprehend Loverboy. I told him he should speak with you, but he informed me the decision had already been made in Washington. He said that he needed my answer then.” She looked into Cam’s face, her tone unapologetic. “I told him yes.”

  They had reached a secluded corner of the park, not far from the bench where Cam had sat with Blair only days before. They stood under the shade of a weeping willow, Cam with her hands balled into fists in the pockets of her trousers, Grant unconsciously at attention.

  “I’m not going to let you do this, Grant,” Cam said calmly, although her voice vibrated with tension. “You’re a Secret Service agent, not FBI. This is an undercover decoy operation, and you’re not trained for it.”

  Grant straightened even further, determination on her face. “Commander, I respectfully disagree. I was a cop before I joined the Service. I can do this.”

  Cam smiled slightly, expecting nothing less from the spit-and-polish Grant, who was a solid agent in every respect. Nevertheless, the operation spelled disaster from the outset.

  There are too many people involved and not enough coordination. Especially when Doyle thinks you are expendable to his objectives. Janet was a trained undercove
r detective, too, and she died in an operation just like this. I am not about to lose anyone else.

  “Agent Grant, I have never doubted your abilities. I value your contribution to this team, and I entrust Egret to your care. This is something altogether different, and it’s not going to happen.”

  “Commander, you may not have anything to say about this.” Grant met Cam’s eyes and she spoke her mind. “I’m not certain that anyone can override SAC Doyle at this point. If I’m needed, and if I’m ordered, I’ll do it. And do it willingly. I’m a good body double for her. Jeremy Finch is dead. You were almost killed.”

  She hesitated for moment, and then said resolutely, “The next time, Commander, he may be too angry to settle for a substitute. The next time it might be Egret. Commander, I want this assignment.”

  Deep in thought, Cam looked past Grant’s shoulder up to the penthouse of Blair’s apartment building. We can’t keep her sequestered up there forever.

  In fact, she doubted they could keep her there even for a few days...nor did she really want to. Blair was suffering—from the guilt of others dying in her place and from the conflict of being at once exposed to countless strangers—and confined by them. It was a conflict that was suffocating her and one that would eventually destroy her strength. Cam could not bear to see that. She brought her eyes back to Ellen Grant’s steady blue ones.

  “If it comes to that, Grant, I want you to know that I’ll be right behind you. You’re not going into this alone.”

  Grant smiled softly and relaxed perceptibly. “Thank you, Commander. That makes me feel better.”

  Finally, Cam smiled, too. “And Ellen...thank you.”

  When they turned and walked side by side from the park, the silence between them was one of unspoken respect.

  Blair answered the door at the first knock. “Is Diane all right?” she inquired urgently as Cam stepped into the loft.

  Cam nodded and went directly to the phone. She disconnected the jack and inserted a small rectangular box between the wall and Blair’s phone. An LCD readout blinked on the face of the metal device, showing a series of rapidly cycling ten-digit numbers. She depressed the receiver once to engage the scrambler, then handed the telephone to Blair.

  “Why don’t you call her yourself? 212-555-1950.”

  Blair raised an eyebrow and pushed the numbers. A few seconds later, she said, “I’d like to speak to Diane, please...” She whispered a thank you to Cam as she waited, then the first real smile in a long time lit her face. “Hey. How are you doing?”

  Leaning against the breakfast counter that divided her kitchen from her work area, Blair reached for Cam’s hand as she spoke and her smile became wry. “No, Diane, I don’t think it’s a good idea to try to seduce the FBI.” She tugged Cam closer, and Cam slipped behind her to sit on one of the high stools lined up along the center island in the kitchen.

  Situating herself, back to front, between Cam’s legs, Blair ran her fingers up and down Cam’s uninjured arm as she continued, “Yes, I know. They do seem to be criminally attractive, but I still think it might provoke an incident if you dragged one into the bedroom.”

  Cam shifted, spreading her legs so that she could pull Blair against her chest, slipping both arms loosely around Blair’s waist from behind, cradling her softly in her arms. She rested her chin against the top of Blair’s head and sighed, too faintly for Blair to hear. She hadn’t held her for what seemed like days.

  “I can’t tell you very much. I don’t know very much,” Blair offered, placing her palm on the inside of Cam’s thigh. Almost unconsciously, she trailed her fingers along the inside seam of Cam’s trousers, listening to Diane tell her about the less-than-four-star accommodations to which she was being subjected.

  Just hearing Diane’s voice helped ease the ball of tension that had filled Blair’s chest all morning. Beyond her relief, though, she was presently much more aware of the slight increase in Cam’s breathing and the fine tension rippling through the muscles under her hand.

  “She’s here with me now...Yes, Diane,” Blair said in mock exasperation. “I’m listening to her.” She laughed and added, “I said I was listening. I didn’t say I was necessarily following orders. I don’t believe domestication is an immediate threat.”

  As Blair spoke, Cam fingered open the top two buttons of Blair’s blouse and slipped her hand inside. Blair gave a slight start of surprise and automatically pressed her hips back into Cam’s crotch.

  “I’m sorry about this.” Blair spoke as earnestly as she could, while trying valiantly to ignore the brush of Cam’s fingers over her nipples. “I trust Cam, and she’ll get you out of there as soon as it’s possible.” She reached behind and found the button on Cam’s fly. A second later, she had it open and was tugging at the zipper. “I’ll call again,” she said, then listened briefly. “Yes. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

  Before she said good-bye, her hand was inside Cam’s trousers. She set down the phone and pressed the back of her head to Cam’s shoulder—extending her neck, offering her flesh. Cam’s lips were on her immediately, hot and hungry. Blair rubbed her fingers over Cam’s briefs, smiling to herself as she found the heat she expected.

  “Thank you for that,” Blair said throatily, arching her back, pressing her breasts up into Cam’s palms.

  “What?” Cam asked dimly. She was focused on the way Blair’s breasts filled her hands and the insistent pounding pressure between her legs that rose rapidly under Blair’s fingertips.

  “Letting me call her,” Blair murmured, her eyes closed. She moved her hand back up to Cam’s belly, aware of the faint growl of frustration from her lover. She smiled to herself, enjoying the power.

  Slowly, she smoothed her palm over Cam’s firm stomach and then quickly pushed her hand under the waistband of Cam’s underwear, back down between trembling legs. She slipped a finger on either side of the firm prominence of Cam’s clitoris, squeezing her slowly. Cam jerked against her, groaning softly.

  Then Cam’s lips were against her ear, her breath ragged, as she whispered, “Do that a little harder and you’ll make me come.”

  “I intend to,” Blair answered, a hungry edge to her voice. She moved her hand away and turned in Cam’s arms until she faced her, still between her legs, her breasts exposed through her open blouse. She rubbed her hard nipples over Cam’s shirtfront, gasping softly at the fine ripple of excitement that ran straight down to her own clitoris.

  “Put your fingers back on me,” Cam pleaded, her eyes hazy with need.

  “Not here. Not just yet,” Blair whispered, stepping away. She caught Cam’s uninjured hand in hers and pulled her upright. “I want you slow.”

  “I don’t have much time,” Cam protested hoarsely, standing and following her nevertheless.

  Blair glanced back, an enigmatic smile on her face. “You have enough time, Commander. The only advantage to our situation is that no one is going to question your presence up here.”

  She drew Cam around the corner of the partition into her sleeping alcove, then turned and reached for the buttons on Cam’s shirt. “I’ve never yet made love with a woman in my own bed. Couldn’t find one to pass the security inspection.” She stopped long enough for a kiss, a deep languid kiss. She was having trouble keeping her hands from shaking she wanted her so badly, but she continued evenly, “Apparently, you’re the one. Stand still.”

  Methodically, she opened each button as Cam submitted willingly to the slow torture, her hands clenched at her sides, shuddering with arousal. Blair stripped the shirt off and laid it carefully over a chair, mentioning almost as an afterthought, “It wouldn’t do to get this too wrinkled.”

  When Blair began to pull off the tailored trousers, Cam’s restraint wavered, and she hurriedly pushed them off herself. In a minute, she was naked. She reached for Blair, who stepped back quickly with a small shake of her head. Her eyes were laser bright and focused intently on Cam’s body.

  “No, you can’t touch me,” she said th
ickly. “I don’t want to be distracted either.” She drew Cam to the bed and urged her down on top of the covers.

  Then, standing by the bed, she watched Cam watch her as she slowly removed her own clothing. She slid the sheer silk off her shoulders, let the blouse drop to the floor, and drew her fingers down her breasts—lingering on her nipples, tugging them lightly until the exquisite sensation became too much to bear. As she continued down to stroke her abdomen, teasing ever lower toward the curls at the base of her belly, Cam’s eyes darkened, following hotly on her. Blair saw her lover’s talented hands twitch where they lay on the covers, and Cam’s reaction heightened her arousal more than her own caresses.

  “I want to do that,” Cam said urgently, watching as Blair’s fingers slipped between her thighs. When Blair made a small whimpering sound, Cam was afraid that she might come herself. Hoarsely, she begged, “Blair, please.”

  Blair shuddered and pulled her hand away, knowing she was too close and not wanting it yet. Nevertheless, she needed contact, something to relieve the throbbing ache between her legs. Hurriedly, she moved onto the bed and straddled Cam’s thigh, moaning softly as her swollen flesh rubbed against Cam’s warm skin. She leaned forward, bracing herself on one arm, and brought the other between Cam’s thighs. She entered her smoothly, all in one motion, knowing that Cam was ready for her.

  Involuntarily, Cam’s throat closed around a cry, and she heaved upward to meet Blair’s thrust. The suddenness of it took her unawares, and a rolling wave of sensation followed fast upon the initial pleasure. Her eyes opened wide, and she stared at Blair, stunned and already lost.

  “Close,” she gasped.

  With every ounce of her strength, Blair was holding back her own orgasm, but the feel of Cam contracting around her fingers and the tingling in her clitoris as she thrust herself along Cam’s leg were too much to contain. She bore down, and as she felt herself begin to crest, she pressed her thumb hard along the length of Cam’s clitoris.

  At the first pounding spasm, Cam jolted upright and wrapped her arms around Blair. They pressed their bodies together, groaning softly in unison as they joined in surrender.