by Radclyffe
As the contractions subsided, they lay back, Blair curled up by Cam’s side, her fingers still inside her. Cam’s arm came lazily around her shoulder, and they rested together, breathing hard and drifting somewhere just behind the boundaries of reality.
On a breath, Cam finally whispered, “If we keep this up, it’s all going to come out.”
Blair pressed closer, moving her hand upward across Cam’s stomach. She rested her fingers on Cam’s breast, not in passion now but in contented possession. “Yes, I know.”
“It will be complicated.”
Blair pressed her lips to Cam’s shoulder, kissing her lightly. “Yes, I know.”
“We’ll deal with it, somehow.” Cam sighed, her lips soft on Blair’s temple.
Blair closed her eyes, stealing a brief moment of peace, as she whispered, “Yes, I believe we will.”
Chapter Nineteen
Most of Cam’s afternoon was spent enduring another meeting with Doyle while they hammered out their respective roles in the upcoming operation. She was forced to accept that the decision regarding Ellen Grant’s participation was out of her hands. She let it go, choosing instead to focus her energy on assuring Grant’s safety. If she needed to be on site twenty-four hours a day monitoring events to do so, then that’s where she planned to be. Late that evening, Finch’s replacement arrived, and the plan to engage Loverboy and draw him out into the open was set in motion.
It was close to 0400 when she finally headed across the square to her apartment. No one was about, and the night was very still. Acutely aware of being alone for the first time in days, she stopped at the corner and glanced back at Blair’s building. A faint glow illuminated the double panes of glass in the penthouse apartment. She wondered if Blair was working and wished for a moment that she could be there—sitting nearby, quietly watching, as she used to watch her mother work when she was young.
It was the kind of memory that brought a longing for something she hadn’t known she missed and couldn’t afford to consider now. She shrugged it away and continued up to her small, impersonal apartment for a few hours of fitful sleep before the campaign truly began.
Four hours later, she was back at Command Central reviewing communications and reports from Washington, the New York field office, and the National Crime Information Center. Despite the current operation, she still had protocols to follow. She couldn’t afford to let one threat to Blair’s security obscure the potential for others. When the routine work was finished, she was ready for a status report on Loverboy. She refused to think of the operation by the truly asinine code name the Fibbies had come up with.
“Anything new?” Cam stood behind the two people seated in front of an array of computers, voice analyzers, video monitors, and other electronic tracking devices.
Both swiveled in their chairs, and both looked weary, but there was also an unmistakable sense of exhilaration about them, as if they were enjoying themselves immensely. The ebony-skinned woman, whose bearing was nothing short of regal, spoke first, her voice modulated by a slight accent that bespoke her European schooling.
“We’ve replied only twice since first contact twelve hours ago, Commander,” Felicia Davis said. “As discussed, I’ve made no attempt to engage him in any way other than a few verbal probes—who are you, what do you want, why are you contacting me. Things Egret would already have said, but the kind of thing someone might ask if they were getting tired of the attention.” A slight frown creased her sculpted features as she indicated the computers on the console in front of her. “I’ve tried to attach a tracking packet to my responses, but he’s using some kind of anonymizer program that is preventing me from inserting any kind of bug into his machine. His point of origin is cloaked exceptionally well.”
“If you could send a worm back with an e-mail message, would we be able to locate him?” Cam was impressed with her newest team member.
The woman who looked like she might have come directly from a Paris fashion runway shrugged, another small frown line darting quickly between her arched brows. “Theoretically, yes. With what I’ve been able to gather, though, the FBI’s attempts to do the same thing have failed as well. My guess is even if we get a fix on his machine, it will show up somewhere in Romania or the like. He’s rerouting his messages through a gateway...probably several. It’s still worth trying, but if we get him this way, it will be pure luck.”
“This could go on for quite some time,” Cam observed. “The two of you are going to need a break.”
Mac protested, “We’re fine, Commander.”
“Don’t worry. You won’t be replaced if you get a little sleep.”
Cam appreciated that Mac wanted to protect his position as the communications coordinator in the unfolding operation that the FBI had cleverly named Love Bug. It had taken a call to Stewart Carlisle along with a threat to go over his head to the director before Cam could get Mac and her new computer expert, Felicia Davis, online with Loverboy to begin with. She had argued that her team could more easily and efficiently provide the kinds of information that an online encounter would require. Loverboy would expect to be speaking with Blair Powell, and Cam’s team knew her best.
Carlisle had agreed with her and had pulled a few strings of his own.
So, despite Doyle’s objections, Cam at least had her people in on the ground floor of the operation. Nevertheless, the FBI were hovering, and Cam had a feeling they were just waiting for the slightest excuse to take over. She couldn’t afford to have her agents burning out in the first few days of what might be a protracted campaign.
“I wouldn’t put anything past Doyle,” Mac griped.
“Don’t waste energy worrying about him.” Cam edged a hip up onto the counter and leaned forward, meeting Mac’s concerned eyes. “You need to be completely focused on your interactions with Loverboy. Remember what Lindsey Ryan told us. He’s very astute, and in all likelihood, he’s been studying Egret for years. Granted, there isn’t all that much information of a personal nature available on her in the public domain, but, still, he’ll be suspicious if ‘she’ begins to behave out of character. To date, Ms. Powell has been very reluctant to have any kind of dialogue with him, and we’re changing that. Any further alteration in the pattern is going to tip him off.”
Davis nodded in agreement. “Understood, Commander. We’ve been watching both the length of the exchange and the exact nature of our responses very carefully. Nevertheless, I don’t want to miss an incoming.”
“Agent Ryan should be here within the next hour, and I would like to conference as soon as she arrives,” Cam said. “After that, you’re both off for six hours. And I mean out-of-here off.”
They barely acknowledged her order before they turned back to a stack of printouts, heads close together, intent on reviewing all of the previous communications from their intended contact. Cam knew she was going to have to force them out of the command room later.
“I’ll be upstairs in the Aerie,” she said as she passed by the agent who was monitoring the building surveillance cameras.
“Roger,” he acknowledged without taking his eyes from the screen.
None of her agents had strayed far from Command Central for the last eighteen hours. Once they had decided to go forward with the FBI’s plan to lure Loverboy into a public confrontation, Cam had put them all on twelve-hour shifts, but she noticed that no one was actually gone for more than a few hours at a time. Everyone considered they had a personal stake in catching the man who had cost them all a friend and colleague.
She glanced at her watch. It was 1030, and it had been twenty-four hours since she had last seen Blair.
Blair stood before the canvas, a fine sable brush in one hand, lost in the sensation of color and contour, not thinking of anything at all. It took her a few seconds to recognize the sound at her door as knocking. She put the brush down and glanced once more at the painting, knowing that when she returned, she would have it.
She crossed the polished wood f
loor, glancing at the clock, and was surprised to find that she had been working for several hours. Amazing. I hadn’t thought I could.
In fact, she hadn’t thought that she would be able to do anything at all except wonder what was happening downstairs. That and think about what she intended to do about being crazy in love with her security chief.
She glanced through the peephole out of habit, and, as it always did whenever she saw Cam, her heart rate seemed to triple. She pulled the door open and leaned against the door frame, regarding the tall, dark-haired woman in the immaculately tailored suit.
“You’re early for the briefing, Commander,” she commented, blocking the doorway. “We aren’t scheduled until three o’clock.”
Cam nodded gravely. “I’m aware of that, Ms. Powell. However, I have some pressing matters to discuss with you.”
“Oh?” Blair moved aside to let Cam enter, then closed the door nonchalantly. When Cam turned, however, Blair had silently moved very close to her. “And what matters would those be?” She slid her fingers under the edge of Cam’s jacket, her voice a husky murmur.
Very slowly, Cam put her hands on Blair’s waist and drew her near. Captivated by the variations of blue in her eyes, she answered, “Personal matters.”
Then she lowered her head and kissed her. It was a long, slow, thorough kiss that spoke of longing and desire and something else. Something beyond words, at once tender and yet heavy with need. When she lifted her mouth from Blair’s, they stood silently, arms around one another, just feeling.
Finally, Blair stepped back, a crooked smile on her lips. “I’m glad you had them turn off the surveillance cameras in here.”
“So am I.” Cam grinned. “Although this wasn’t what I had in mind at the time.”
“How’s your hand?”
“Better.”
“Who bandaged it?”
“No one.” Cam held it up for inspection. “Just a few areas to cover. I did it myself.”
“Good.” Blair pressed her palm to Cam’s chest, stroking her gently. “Did you sleep?”
“Some. The operation’s under way—I can’t be away long.”
“Can you talk about what’s happening with...all of it?”
“Well, my attention is on something different at the moment.” Cam laughed, trying to ignore the deep insistent throbbing. “I’d better have some coffee if you want me to think.”
Blair took her arm and started to pull her toward the kitchen. Then she hesitated, turned, and grasped Cam’s face with both hands. She pulled her head down and kissed her, hard and fierce. When she drew back, her knees felt weak, and Cam looked slightly stunned.
“Well,” Blair gasped, running her hands over Cam’s chest. “Now I guess I’d better have some of that coffee, too.”
A few moments later they sat facing one another at the counter, their hands lightly touching.
“What’s going on?” Blair asked.
Cam told her about Doyle and Grant and the operation.
Blair watched Cam’s face while she talked, listening for the things that weren’t said out loud. She had spent her life listening to her father and his associates discuss everything from foreign policy to armed intervention, and she knew something about strategy. She also recognized when some things were being glossed over or omitted altogether.
“You can’t intend for Grant to take him on herself?” she asked when Cam finished outlining the basics of the plan.
“No.” Cam shook her head. “No, not at all. Once we establish rapport and convince Loverboy that he really is speaking to you, we hope he’ll reveal something to help us trace him. Some reference to location, some historical fact—something to give us a fix on his physical location.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“Then we’ll set up a meet, under the pretext that you don’t want anyone else endangered, and lay a trap for him that way.”
“He might just lay a trap...for me,” Blair said. And he lays his with bombs.
“He might,” Cam allowed. “But we’ll have dozens of agents securing the area, and if he’s anywhere near the meet site, which Ryan assures us he will be, we’ll have him.”
“What about Grant?”
Cam’s stomach tightened but her voice was sure. Uncertainty could not be entertained once an operation was in progress. “She’ll be wired and armored, and hopefully he won’t get close enough to her to be any real threat. Remember, she’s a decoy—we just need her to leave here as you, in case he’s watching the building, and to be visible approaching the meet location. Eventually, he has to expose himself.”
Silent for a moment, Blair then asked, “Who’s going with her as backup?”
“About thirty federal agents and twice that many Staties. We’ll have people covering her like a blanket.”
“I meant on the ground. Close in.” Blair leaned back, putting a little distance between them, suddenly wary. “You can’t risk him seeing an intercept team and getting spooked, right?”
“You’re right. Two agents will go in with her.”
“Who?”
“Savard.” Cam met Blair’s eyes, adding softly, “And me.”
Blair stood abruptly and walked to the far side of the loft. Her back to the room, she looked out the tall windows toward the park.
Cam sat still for a moment, her good sense warring with an uncomfortable need to make Blair understand. She stared across the room at Blair’s rigid back, telling herself that she should simply go back to work and do what needed to be done. But if she did that, she knew she would only be bringing part of herself to the job. The other part would be wondering about Blair, and that fact aggravated her almost as much as the cold silence in the room.
“Blair,” Cam said quietly, crossing to stand behind her. As much as she wanted to, she did not touch her because the anger was nearly a palpable barrier between them.
Not turning, Blair held up a hand, her voice harsh and clipped. “Don’t, Cam. Do not tell me it’s safe or any other such fairy tale about the brilliant planning of our security agencies. I know the track records.”
Cam did touch her then, because she had to. The distance between them was harder and harder to bear. She didn’t want to think about what that might mean, particularly not now. She rested her hands very lightly on Blair’s waist, stepping near but not trying to hold her.
“Everyone agrees that the risk is low.”
Blair made a faint choking sound that might have been a laugh or a sob. She turned abruptly and faced Cam, pushing her hands away. “Just when did you start thinking that I was stupid, Cam? Before or after we fucked?”
“God damn it, Blair,” Cam growled, trying hard to hold onto her temper. “I know damn well you aren’t stupid. The risks are low.”
“I suppose you thought that it wouldn’t occur to me that Jeremy Finch is dead and this maniac almost killed you once already? Do you think I’ve forgotten that? Or do you think I’ve simply lost my mind?”
“If anyone has lost their mind, it’s me,” Cam snapped, her dark eyes flashing with fury. “And it wasn’t when we fucked. It happened the first time I walked into this room and you had the arrogance to come on to me like I was some rookie you could lead around by my proverbial dick.”
“Well, that didn’t work very well, did it?” Blair seethed, looking pointedly at Cam’s crotch and then back to her face. “And it has nothing to do with the particulars of your anatomy.”
“Actually, it must have worked”—Cam was irritated, running a hand through her hair, tousling the dark locks into the disheveled look that Blair found so sexy—“because I haven’t been able to make a single decision since that morning without worrying about you.”
Blair stared at her, remembering their first meeting and her surprise at discovering that her new security chief not only wasn’t intimidated by her but also actually seemed intent on working with her. “I never asked you to worry about me,” she remarked, the sharp edges of her rage softening as she
looked at her.
“I know that,” Cam said, her voice intense, “but I do.” She waited a beat, letting her temper cool, and then said more quietly, “I didn’t want you to care about me.”
“I know that,” Blair whispered, and added even more softly, “but I do.”
They both moved at once, closing the distance, slipping into one another’s arms.
“I’ll be careful...”
“Be careful...”
Cam kissed Blair’s temple, murmuring, “I’ll wear a vest, and I’ll have Savard. She’s good. We’ll be in radio contact with Doyle’s team. We’ll have plenty of backup.”
Blair pressed her lips to Cam’s neck, feeling her blood pulse through the arteries just under the skin. So fragile. She took a deep breath, forcing the fear away, burying it deep inside.
“Savard’d better be as good as she looks,” she threatened, “or I’ll be forced to hurt her.”
Chapter Twenty
Early the next morning, Cam leaned over an array of printouts on the table in the glass-walled conference room, talking to Patrick Doyle. She was working hard to ignore her intense dislike for the man.
Just get the job done and make sure Grant is well protected in the process. That’s all that matters, she reminded herself.
When Doyle failed to respond to one of her questions, she glanced up from the transcript of the last communication with Loverboy and caught the FBI agent staring past her through the glass partition into the main area of the command center. The look on his face was a startling mixture of displeasure and something that looked very much like lust.
She turned and followed his gaze. When she saw that he was looking at Blair, her simmering anger flashed hotly into fury. The way he stared at her was an invasion.
“Do you have a problem of some kind, Doyle?” she demanded.
“You don’t seem to have much control over her, Roberts,” Doyle said derisively. “She shouldn’t be down here.”
