Honor Bound

by Radclyffe

  “It’s not my job to control her,” Cam said as evenly as she could. “And there is absolutely no reason that she shouldn’t go anywhere she likes.”

  He studied her as if she were some strange life form. “Civilians complicate matters, Roberts. Especially civilians with opinions…and friends in high places.”

  “I’m not concerned about anything that Ms. Powell might have to say to anyone about anything.” Cam folded up her notebook and turned to leave.

  “You might change your mind before this is all over,” he called after her.

  She closed the door without looking back and threaded her way through the desks and the mountains of monitoring equipment that seemed to grow in number and complexity every day. Their working space had previously been adequate for routine day-to-day matters. But now that Doyle’s team had practically moved on site, Lindsey Ryan was staying to monitor the Internet communications with their UNSUB and the ATF bomb squad was coming and going with information about the latest analysis on the bomb fragments from the park. The room was crowded with people and makeshift workstations.

  Nevertheless, the communications station at the far end of the room remained somewhat insulated from the rest of the activity. Everyone knew that Felicia Davis should not be distracted. Mac was with her most of the time, primarily to retrieve any data that she might need quickly in order to respond to Loverboy.

  At the moment, though, Blair was leaning down and speaking to Davis. Both women appeared oblivious to the activity in the rest of the room.

  It was the second full day of the operation, and there had only been sparse e-mail exchange between Davis, posing as Blair, and Loverboy. A temporal analysis of his previous communications revealed that he sent a message nearly every day. Frequently, it was only a few words or a single line.

  Lindsey Ryan hypothesized that he not only needed to satisfy his compulsion to communicate with Blair but that he also wanted to demonstrate that he could reach her. His skills extended beyond bomb-making and marksmanship, and, despite all attempts to thwart him with shields and aliases and rerouting her mail servers, it never took him long to track her down.

  Blair tolerated his messages because she refused to give up her own access to the Internet, and in an oddly understandable way, she had not wanted to be cut off from him either. She would not live in a cocoon as if nothing were happening. She wanted to hear his voice if he was threatening her.

  As Cam drew near, she heard Blair say, “I’m the best one to do this.”

  Immediately, her stomach churned uneasily, because she had a feeling she knew what Blair was talking about. She had defended Blair’s presence in the command center to Doyle, and she believed precisely what she had said. In point of fact, though, she hoped that Blair would stay away, if only because the tension and uncertainty were wearing for all of them, and she wished to spare her that. But in her heart, she had expected something like this.

  Blair straightened and nodded to Cam, revealing none of the quick pleasure she took in seeing her. “Good morning, Commander.”

  “Ms. Powell,” Cam said warmly, stopping behind the chairs occupied by Mac and Felicia Davis. “Is there some way I can be of service?”

  Blair struggled not to smile, but she knew Cam could see the laughter in her eyes. She resisted the urge to make a clever comeback, only because she didn’t trust her voice not to give her away. Being around Cam never failed to arouse her, and she knew it would show in the timbre of her voice. It was bad enough she could feel the liquid heat beginning between her legs.

  “It occurred to me this morning, Commander, that I should be the one e-mailing Loverboy. There’s no reason to use a go-between in this exchange.”

  Cam hesitated for a moment, needing the time to formulate an answer that would be both honest and convincing. She wouldn’t lie to her, not only because she had never been able to but also because she could not bring herself even to try. On the other hand, the thought of Blair being involved so intimately with this man, even when there was no chance of physical connection between them, made her almost physically ill.

  “The reason we’re using an agent is because our people know how to manipulate the conversation to get the information we need. Plus, Agent Davis is aware of the things we need to know to secure the meeting site.”

  Blair listened, watching Cam’s face carefully. Her security chief was very good at keeping her emotions completely compartmentalized. Her lover, however, was not. There was a flicker of worry in Cam’s eyes—worry for her—and Blair saw it. She smiled in agreement.

  “That makes perfect sense, Commander. However, I don’t propose to start e-mailing him from my apartment. I would do everything right here with Mac and Agent Davis by my side. They could certainly coach me in any procedural things I might need to say much more easily than Agent Davis could pretend to be me. It seems to me there’s far less likelihood that he would become suspicious if it actually was me.”

  Cam glanced at Mac, who raised an eyebrow slightly and nodded even more imperceptibly.

  “You’ve caught me somewhat unprepared, Ms. Powell,” Cam said, and this time Blair could read nothing in her eyes. “I need to discuss this with Agent Ryan and some others.”

  “I understand. Would you let me know what you think once you’ve done that?”

  “Certainly.”

  Blair watched Cam walk away and wondered just how angry she really was.

  “You outflanked me down there,” Cam said when she stepped into the loft.

  Blair leaned against the arm of her leather sofa, regarding Cam carefully. She hadn’t moved nearer once the door was closed, and her hands were in her pockets. She definitely had her game face on.

  “You know,” Blair said, “I haven’t touched you in almost a day. I don’t think I have the energy to fight.”

  Cam sighed and took her hands from her pockets. She shrugged out of her blazer and released the buckle on her shoulder harness, easing it off her still-sore right shoulder and placing it with her jacket. As she walked the few steps toward Blair, she pulled her shirt from beneath the waistband of her trousers. She didn’t stop moving when she reached Blair, but put one thigh between Blair’s legs and a hand behind her back, and then tumbled her over the arm of the plush leather sofa onto the seat.

  Cam ended up on top and pushed herself up with her good arm so she could see Blair’s face. No games between them, her voice was low and warm. “You can touch me now.”

  Blair slid both hands under the tail of Cam’s shirt and raked her nails up Cam’s sides, drawing a swift gasp. When she reached her breasts, she caressed them softly, tightening her fingers on the small, hard nipples.

  Cam closed her eyes and groaned. Blair kept up the rhythm, squeeze and release, squeeze and release, until Cam was stiff with the pleasure-pain of it and trembling.

  “That’s good.”

  “Very good,” Blair whispered.

  Their legs entwined, and Blair felt Cam’s heat against her thigh even as she felt her own arousal soaking into her jeans. When Cam caught the tender skin at the base of her neck between her teeth, Blair cried out once, sharply, and then managed to speak.

  “Bedroom. Bed. I need you naked on me.”

  Vaguely, Cam could hear her, but the words weren’t registering as she thrust her hips faster into Blair’s. After they had been apart, it was always like this. She couldn’t control the rocketing surge of excitement that brought her too high too fast, until she was teetering on the brink and ready to go off in seconds.

  She was ready now, she could feel it curling in the base of her spine, tingling down her legs, cramping in her muscles. Oh yeah, she was going off soon.

  Blair pushed Cam’s hips away, breaking their contact, dragging Cam back from the edge. Cam gasped, lowering her forehead to Blair’s chest, shuddering uncontrollably.

  “I’m sorry,” she groaned. “I can’t hold it back.”

  One hand caressing the damp strands of hair at the back of Cam’s neck
, Blair eased away from her. “Yes, you can,” she crooned softly. “Remember, you’re a Secret Service agent.”

  Cam laughed shakily and sat up, her hands falling open by her sides. Her shirt was open, her body on fire and glistening with sweat. “I’m afraid I’m compromised.”

  “Just the way I like you.” Blair held out her hand, her color high and her eyes blazing. “Let’s go do that some more.”

  By the time they reached the bedroom, Cam had regained a slim thread of control. She managed to undress and lie down next to Blair. “Let me just touch you for a minute.” Her voice was still unsteady. “I don’t trust myself just yet, and I don’t want to come right away.”

  “It’s a tough order to follow, Commander, but I’ll try,” Blair said with a smile.

  Cam started at Blair’s shoulders and ran her hands down the toned body, watching in wonder as the fine muscles shimmered under her fingertips and the blood rose to warm the skin beneath her palms. Blair’s breath came fast, and every now and then, a small sound of pleasure escaped her. When Cam trailed her fingers lightly up the inside of her thigh, Blair arched her hips and the fingers laced through Cam’s hair trembled with urgency.

  “You have the sweetest touch,” Blair whispered, her voice choked with need.

  Cam, too, was barely breathing. Every time they were together like this, the pleasure was so intense, she felt as if she was bleeding. She had never felt so vulnerable—or so helpless, or so blessed. It was almost more than she could tolerate.

  She slid one finger between Blair’s legs, tracing the delicate folds and swollen ridges. Blair’s pulse raced against her fingertips, and when she brushed lightly along the underside of her clitoris, Blair jerked in her arms. She circled harder and put her mouth to Blair’s, wanting her breath, wanting her blood, wanting all of her.

  Blair wrapped her arms around Cam’s shoulders, pressing her breasts to Cam’s chest, clinging to her, desperate for the sweet release. She rocked her hips faster against Cam’s hand, knowing she would come any second.

  Feeling Blair’s heart hammer against her own, Cam let loose her control, allowing the tension in her body to rise. When she knew Blair was there, she lifted her lips from Blair’s and said softly against her ear, “Touch me now.”

  Ready to explode, Blair reached for her blindly. When she found her—hard and swollen and so ready—she couldn’t stop her own momentum. Even as it began, wrenching through her, forcing her almost double with the clench of muscles deep inside, she pressed her fingers along Cam’s length the way she knew Cam needed it.

  Cam jerked and groaned and came with her.

  Then they held one another and rested.

  Cam slept, her head on Blair’s chest. Blair ran her fingers absently through Cam’s hair, marveling at the sensation of being able to hold her. One floor below them, a dramatic tableau played out; but here, for the moment, all that mattered was the woman in her arms. It was unnerving, and more than a little terrifying.

  She had spent most of her life surrounded by people, yet alone. She had learned to ignore the isolation and had discovered in her solitude the creative insight that inspired her art. Her work centered and defined her, and she would not change that. But each time she opened herself a little more to Cameron, she discovered another place in herself, another dimension of emotion. What frightened her most was the knowledge that without Cam those places would ache, empty and waiting—a deadly wound she would never be able to heal. She shivered and held Cam closer.

  “Cold?” Cam murmured.

  “No, not really.” Blair’s voice was still unsteady. Loving was a dangerous thing, the cost so high, and she struggled not to flee.

  Cam moved her hand from Blair’s thigh, where it had lain since she had fallen asleep, and brought it to Blair’s breast, softly caressing the firm warm flesh. She moved her head an inch and lightly kissed the tight pink nipple.

  “What is it, then?”

  “Nothing,” Blair said quietly.

  Cam nuzzled her face against the side of Blair’s neck and whispered, “Blair.” She kissed the curve of her jaw. “I love you.”

  Blair caught her breath, trapped between need and a lifetime of denying it. “Cam,” she breathed, amazed and still uncertain.

  Pushing herself up on one elbow, Cam gently traced her fingers over Blair’s face and down her neck, finding in her unguarded gaze what Blair could not put into words. “It’s all right,” she said gently.

  “So you say,” Blair whispered, wishing she could just keep her lover there, where it was safe.

  “I should go.” Cam was reluctant but moved away a little because the heat of Blair’s skin was arousing her again. She kissed the tip of Blair’s chin and then her mouth. “I’ll be back.”

  “Good.” Blair raised her head to claim Cam’s mouth one last time.

  A few moments later, she sat curled up on the sofa in nothing but an oversized T-shirt, watching Cam pull her clothes into order and strap on her weapon.

  “Are you very angry about this morning?”

  Cam stopped what she was doing and looked at Blair, who still wore a slightly bruised and hazy expression from their recent lovemaking. She wanted nothing in that moment as much as she wanted to touch her again.

  “Probably,” she said, reaching for her jacket.

  “I thought you might be.”

  Fully clothed now, Cam regarded Blair steadily. “Then why did you do it?”

  “Because I thought it was the right thing to do.”

  Cam blew out a breath and looked past Blair toward the wide, tall windows and the golden afternoon sun visible beyond. She forced herself to ignore her concerns and consider the facts. She tried not to think about Blair talking to him. She tried not to think about the fact that this nameless, faceless man wanted Blair, that he lay awake at night thinking about touching her, that during the day he set traps to destroy her.

  She finally looked back to Blair. “You were right.”

  Cam turned and started for the door, and Blair rose quickly to follow. Just as Cam grasped the doorknob, she threaded her arms around Cam’s waist from behind and lay her cheek against Cam’s back. “I’ll be down in a little while,” she said softly.

  “Yes.”

  “It wasn’t my intention to make you angry.”

  Cam turned and gently lifted Blair’s face in both hands. She looked into her deep blue eyes. “I know it wasn’t, but I have a feeling that you would have done it no matter what.”

  Her voice completely serious, Blair asked, “Is that a problem, then?”

  “Only when I’m not thinking with my head,” Cam murmured, falling into those eyes.

  Blair smiled, smoothing her hand down Cam’s chest and hooking her fingers under the waistband of her trousers. She tugged lightly and replied, “Well then, hopefully we can count on that kind of problem fairly often.”

  “Apparently that would be the case,” Cam said, resisting the urge to slip her hands under Blair’s T-shirt. If she did that, she wouldn’t stop until she had her again, right there on the spot. She kissed her once, hard and sure, and then pulled away. As she stepped through the door, she said briskly, “I’ll see you shortly then, Ms. Powell.”

  “Certainly, Commander,” Blair called after her, lingering just a moment to watch her walk down the hall. Then she closed the door and went to prepare herself.

  Blair sat at the long console table in loose cotton pants and an open-collared, pale blue linen shirt, flanked by Felicia Davis and Mac. Partially full Styrofoam cups of coffee, long cold, sat interspersed with keyboards, headsets, and monitors. She stretched and sighed.

  “Tired?” a familiar deep voice asked from behind her.

  So quickly she might have imagined it if her skin hadn’t begun to tingle, Blair felt the fleeting brush of fingers across her arm. Slowly, she turned her chair and glanced up at Cam. She smiled softly. “A little.”

  “Why don’t all of you take a break,” Cam said to the three of them. “
I’ll have one of the FBI people watch the incomings for a few hours.”

  “What did Agent Ryan say our approach should be?” Blair asked, ignoring the suggestion to leave. She, Mac, and Felicia had been alternating breaks, and she was fine. “We should have contact any time. It’s been almost twenty-four hours.”

  “She said it was time to push,” Cam reported almost reluctantly.

  What the profiler had in fact said was that they were running out of time. Ryan anticipated that Loverboy would make another strike imminently. His pattern suggested an extremely low restraint level that was rapidly deteriorating. Since Blair had not been outside the building in over seventy-two hours, he was completely cut off from her. If Blair didn’t engage him verbally, he was very likely to take action, and Lindsey admitted that she had no idea what form that attack might take.

  Cam studied Blair, acutely aware of the faint circles under her eyes and the weary set to her shoulders. She wanted to tell her to go upstairs and get some sleep. She wanted to tell her to stay away from all of this. She wanted to tell her that this was her job, and she would damn well handle it.

  What she said was, “Lindsey said it’s up to you. She said follow your instincts.”

  Blair straightened, staring at the monitor as if she could will a message to appear. “Well then, let’s get down and dirty.”

  Three hours later, it began.

  A001@worldnet.com: I’ve missed you, Blair. Are you hiding?

  NYC1112@freemail.com: I got your message. Let’s talk.

  The four people watching the monitor held their collective breath. It was the first time that Egret had suggested a real-time chat. If it spooked him and he terminated all e-mail contact, they might lose their only conduit of communication at a time when information was critical.

  “Come on, you prick, bite,” Mac muttered. He rocked in his seat, his body so tense he vibrated. God, I want this guy.

  Looking at Blair, who sat with her hands poised on the keyboard, focused and intent, Cam clenched her fists and shoved her hands into her pockets, torn between wanting him to answer and wishing he would disappear into the amorphous world of cyberspace.