by Radclyffe
Don’t say it, Mac. Don’t say it. Don’t say—
From behind her came one word. “Blair.”
Blair spun around, her heart leaping. Cam stood just a few feet away. Blair didn’t think about anything—not the federal agents, not the reporters, not the public—she just reached for her.
Cam opened her arms and pulled Blair close, holding her tightly. Blair was trembling. Lowering her head, Cam brushed her lips against her ear and said softly, “I’m all right. Do you hear me? I’m all right.”
Not trusting herself to speak, Blair nodded. She pressed her lips to Cam’s shoulder, wanting her mouth, but knowing she couldn’t. Not right there, not with everyone right there. She hadn’t lost that much of her mind, and the solid reassurance of Cam’s body instantly calmed her.
Too soon, she forced herself to step away, although letting Cam go was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life. Her entire body ached for the feel of her lover in her arms. Her hands shook she wanted to touch Cam so badly, just to be sure that she was still there. Just to be sure that she hadn’t lost her.
“Are you hurt?” Blair’s eyes darted over her, trying to reassure herself that indeed Cam was in one piece. “You are, aren’t you?”
Cam’s face was white and her usually sharp, clear eyes were dull. She had shed her jacket and protective vest, and her shirt was soaked with sweat and grime and patches of something that looked a lot like blood. A hot flash of anger flared in Blair’s depths. Not toward the woman, not even toward the job, but toward the relentless maniac that had tried to take Cam from her. She wanted to kill him herself.
“Cam? Are you hurt?”
Cam was careful not to shake her head, because she was dizzy, and the ringing in her ears affected her balance. She was afraid too much motion would make her vomit again.
“Not much. Scrapes and bruises. A bump on the head. I won’t be hearing the high notes for a while.”
“Just what exactly happened to you?” Blair was instantly suspicious because Cam wasn’t moving, and she had that evasive look she thought Blair didn’t recognize. Before the Secret Service agent could answer, Blair added, “And if you don’t tell me the whole thing right now, I’ll find the doctors and ask them myself.”
“A minor concussion,” Cam admitted with a sigh. She ran her fingers lightly down Blair’s arm. “Nothing that time won’t take care of.”
“And they released you?” Blair persisted.
“Well, not exactly,” Cam confessed. She didn’t blame Blair for being angry with her. She was only grateful that Blair hadn’t been there to witness the doctors trying to convince her to be admitted overnight for observation. Now that would have been messy. “I’m kind of on my own recognizance at the moment.”
“Damn it, Cam,” Blair seethed, keeping her voice low, aware that there were others nearby. “Don’t do this to me.”
“I have things I need to take care of,” Cam continued urgently, taking her hand. “I have two badly injured people, Blair. I have families to contact, supervisors to inform. I have my agents to see to. I have to be here.”
As much as she didn’t want to, Blair let go of Cam’s hand. She took a deep breath and counted to ten. “Will you promise me that if you start to feel ill you’ll let the doctors look at you? Promise me that.”
“I will,” Cam said, her expression grateful. “I swear, Blair.”
Blair nodded, relenting because that was the best she could get at the moment. And she trusted Cam not to lie to her.
“And the minute that you get things under control you’ll get some rest?”
“Agreed,” Cam said with a faint smile. “Will you let Mac take you home?”
“I’d like to stay until there’s some word on Ellen and Renee.”
Cam heard the true caring in her voice. She looked around, relieved to see her team reassembling.
“Of course. I’ll have Fielding find a room where you can wait. I’ll tell you the second I hear.”
“Thank you,” Blair said softly. “Take good care of yourself, Commander.”
“I will,” Cam murmured, losing herself for just an instant in her eyes. “I’m glad that you’re here, you know.”
“That’s a good thing,” Blair whispered, “because nothing could have kept me away.”
Four hours later, Cam walked into the command center and regarded the remains of her team. Most of them had never gone home but instead had voluntarily taken turns rotating between there and the hospital. As she expected, Stark was among them. The young agent appeared pale and shaky, and she had that haunted look in her eyes that Cam knew would linger a long time.
“The conference room,” she said as she walked through.
A few minutes later, she stood at the head of the table, as she had so many times before, and looked at each of them in turn. Finally, she said quietly, “While we were waiting to hear about our people, I’ve been making phone calls and Davis has been digging through the databases. I’ll give you what I have. It’s preliminary and unofficial until I’m formally debriefed. Clear?”
A quick rumble of assent as all eyes focused on her. She smiled then, a cold hard smile. “We got him.”
The chorus of cheers was heavy with weariness, their triumph blunted by the injuries they’d sustained.
Grimly, she passed Mac a faxed page from a personnel file with a black-and-white photograph in the upper right-hand corner of a male in uniform. “State Trooper James Benjamin Harker. Ten years ago, he was detached to Governor Powell’s personal security detail.”
For a moment there was stunned silence, then Stark muttered vehemently, “Bastard.”
“I can’t believe it,” Mac said, obviously distressed. He glanced at the picture, then passed the sheet to the person next to him. “Why weren’t we onto this? Background checks should have turned up something.”
“This information stays in this room,” Cam said quietly. She had to work at keeping her own anger in check as she continued, “Apparently, the FBI task force ran background checks soon after Egret alerted them that she was receiving e-mail from Loverboy. That was before they saw fit to inform us. Supposedly they cleared everyone who had ever had anything to do with her security.”
“Sure,” Mac interrupted with a derisive laugh. “They checked all of us out.”
“I haven’t heard Doyle’s take on this. He’s been strangely unavailable for comment since things went sour at the amusement park.” Cam continued grimly, “Apparently, it appears there was a breakdown in their internal communications, and the security officers assigned to Egret when her father was the governor were never checked. Harker, a.k.a. Loverboy, was one of them.”
Fielding raised his head sharply. “Does that mean this nutcase was shadowing her for over ten years?”
“Lindsey Ryan says it’s possible,” Cam said, struggling to keep the loathing from her voice.
The fact that he would have killed Blair was only part of what made it so abhorrent. She was sickened by the very idea that this psychopath had probably watched Blair from the time she was a teenager. Worst of all, she knew this wasn’t really the end. Blair would never be completely free from idle curiosity and might someday become the object of someone else’s obsession. She shoved the thought away. She had to get through this, and then maybe she could lie down and the pounding in her head would stop.
“Whatever happened, the FBI will clean up their own mess.”
“Yeah, right,” Mac snarled. “Except we’ve had to pay the price for their foul-up. First you, then Jeremy, and now Grant.”
“Update on the injured,” Cam continued, ignoring Mac’s remark, although privately she agreed with him.
From what she had learned during her initial call to Stewart Carlisle, SAC Doyle was getting all the credit for the takedown. She didn’t begrudge the FBI that, because Savard had been the one to stop him. This was not about who got the glory, but about the fact that Blair was no longer in danger, at least for the moment. For that, she
would always be grateful to Renee Savard. The fact that Doyle had nearly gotten Ellen Grant killed was another issue, and she would not soon forget that.
Her mind was wandering. She took a deep breath, trying to clear her head. “Grant is awake and says for none of you to touch her desk. Said she’ll know if there’s a pencil missing.” Cam smiled faintly. “She’ll be discharged in five or six days and back on duty in six weeks if the next CT scan is clear.”
She glanced at Stark once, quickly, and then continued steadily, “Savard is out of surgery, but still unconscious in the intensive care unit. The surgeons are optimistic. She lost a lot of blood, but apparently no critical structures in her shoulder were involved. In the absence of any unforeseen complications, they’re predicting a full recovery.”
She looked pointedly at each person gathered around the table. “We owe her. She stepped up for us, and even after she was hit, she managed to get this guy. No one is exactly sure yet what happened, and it’s going to take weeks for the final crime scene analysis. What we figure is that he was carrying another explosive device that he either hadn’t had time to dispose of or that he was planning on planting somewhere else.”
Several eyebrows rose.
“The ATF commander tells me that the shock waves from a bullet impacting anywhere near a high-order explosive can trigger it. Looks like Savard hit him, and his own bomb took him out. We’re waiting for forensics to give us the final ID, but Harker was missing after the action and everything else fits.”
“Too fucking good for him,” Fielding grumbled.
A round of murmured assents followed.
“Davis ran a quick background check, and it turns out that Harker had applied to the Secret Service before he joined the Staties. He was denied for psychological reasons. I guess the state system never turned up that information with a computer check of his application. Not surprising, since none of our systems are interfaced.”
Now came the hard part. “I just looked at the tapes from the explosion in Central Park. Harker was the trooper standing next to Jeremy’s car. He probably placed the device right there.”
The silence was heavy with sorrow and fury.
“He’s also the one who pulled me away from the car that day. I don’t know why.”
Lindsey had told her that it might be something as simple as the fact that Harker didn’t want anything or anyone to alter his plan—that he needed to be the one to determine who should live, and who should die...and when.
Mac slid Harker’s sheet back to her, and Cam regarded it with a sense of finality. “I’ll be flying to DC sometime later today or first thing tomorrow morning for the debriefing. Egret is due to leave for San Francisco in a few days. She’s staying with Diane Bleeker until some of the publicity dies down and at the moment, her itinerary is in flux. I’ll review her plans with you when I know them. Mac, would you set up the shifts, please. You’ll head the detail until I return.”
“Right,” he said quietly.
She knew they needed to mourn Jeremy’s loss. She also knew what else they needed. “I’ve arranged for a team from the local field office to cover the current shift. Everyone go home and get some rest. If there’s news from the hospital, I’ll see that you’re notified. I need you all back here in twelve hours, and I need you to be sharp. We still have a job to do.”
As the others in the room stood to leave, she added, “Stark, a moment, please.”
Cam waited until the room had cleared, then she closed the door and said, “Take a couple days leave time, Stark. You look like hell.”
“I’m fine, Commander,” Stark's eyes flashed with anger. “I’ll be ready to take the evening shift.”
Cam smiled faintly and rested a hip against the corner of the table. She looked away for a second, and when she returned her gaze to Stark, she let the sadness show. “What happened out there is hard for everyone, Stark. Having friends and colleagues in danger, seeing them injured—it affects us all.” She paused, not needing the memories to feel the terrible sense of helplessness, the horrible hopelessness. She’d never forget it. “It’s much harder when it’s someone you care about. I know.”
Stark stared at her in surprise. Maybe it was the sympathy in Cam’s voice or the shared sorrow that finally undid her, but she sat quickly and covered her face with her hands, hiding the tears that she couldn’t hold back any longer. It took her a few minutes to get hold of herself, and then she sank back in the chair.
“I’m sorry. I think I’m just tired. I know she’s going to be all right, but I can’t stop thinking about the way she looked lying on that stretcher.”
“Savard is tough, and she’s going to be fine.”
“She sure kicked some ass, didn’t she?” Stark grinned, her spirits bolstered by the certainty in Cam’s voice.
“That she did,” Cam agreed.
Stark rose wearily. “Thank you, Commander. I think I will request a few days’ personal time, just so I can...you know...visit the hospital and stuff.”
Cam smiled. “A very good idea, Agent.”
Waiting until the room had cleared, Cam then made her way slowly downstairs. She flagged down a cab and gave him the Upper East Side address. She was asleep before he pulled away from the curb.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Well,” Diane Bleeker said as she stood in the open doorway, “I’ve waited a long time to see you at my door, Commander.”
“Sorry.” Cam grinned tiredly.
“Don’t be,” Diane said with a laugh. “Some things are definitely worth waiting for.”
Cam glanced at several suitcases standing by the door. “Going somewhere?”
“Just a three-day weekend,” Diane said nonchalantly. Then she raised an eyebrow, a speculative look on her face. “Basically a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing.”
“Thank you.” Cam knew that Diane was leaving to give her and Blair a little time alone. “I appreciate it.”
“Oh, believe me, Commander,” Diane ran her fingers lightly down Cam’s arm, lingering just a moment on her hand, “anything I can do to help.”
“You might want to take your hands off her, Diane,” Blair said softly from behind them. “I’m terribly short of patience at the moment.”
Diane turned to smile at her old friend. “When did you lose your sense of humor, Blair?”
“Well...” Blair looked past Diane to Cam, who still stood waiting at the door, rumpled and pale and just about the best-looking thing she had ever seen. She ached to get her hands on her, her arms around her, her skin on her skin. Her voice was low, throaty with emotion, when she murmured, “I think it was along about the second time that maniac tried to kill her.”
“Since that’s the way it is, I’ll just make myself scarce.” Diane stepped aside. She had watched Blair pace and worry and stare out the window for the last few hours, restlessly waiting, and she could never remember seeing her so undone, and so clearly suffering. “The doorman’s already called the cab. Try to behave for a day or so, you two.”
“Thanks for everything.” Blair touched Diane’s shoulder briefly as her friend grasped her suitcases and left, but her eyes never moved from Cam’s face. When they were alone, she came slowly forward and took Cam’s hand. “Come with me.”
Cam was too tired to question or protest. The dizziness had abated, but the headache persisted and probably would for days. Mostly, she was weary. There had been too much violence—too many injured and too many lost; she was worn down by it, body and soul. All she really wanted was to lie down next to Blair and close her eyes.
Blair led her through the apartment and into the bathroom, closing the door. She turned and began unbuttoning Cam’s shirt. Cam lifted her hands to help, but Blair brushed her fingers away gently.
“No. Let me.”
Tenderly, Blair undressed her, being careful to ease the clothing off the new patches of bruises and abrasions covering her back. She tried not to think of what had put them there, but she couldn’t help imagin
ing Cam flung to the ground, rocks and debris raining down on her during the blast.
Cam sensed her hesitate. “It isn’t as bad—”
“Yes, I know, Commander. It isn’t as bad as it looks.” She put it from her mind for the moment.
When she had Cam naked, she took off her own clothes. She started the water in the shower and drew Cam in with her.
“Oh God,” Cam groaned softly. “That feels so good.”
“Mmm,” Blair responded, she herself finally beginning to relax. She reached for the soap and worked the lather over Cam’s body.
“And that feels even better,” Cam whispered, her eyes closing. She was nearly asleep standing up. The hot steam and Blair’s soft hands lulled her into a state of near torpor. By the time Blair was finished washing her hair, she wasn’t sure she would be able to remain standing. “I’m not going to be much good for anything in another minute,” she mumbled, her speech slurred with fatigue.
Blair wrapped her in a large towel and brushed the damp hair back from her forehead. She kissed her gently on the mouth. “Believe me, Commander, you are good for a great many things, which I’m sure you’ll remember after a little sleep. If not,” she added as she led the way to the bedroom, “I’ll be sure to remind you.”
Renee Savard opened her eyes and tried to focus on the figure leaning over her. Finally, she succeeded. “Hi.”
Stark smiled. “Hi yourself.”
Carefully taking stock, Savard eventually assured herself that she could feel the bed covers touching each foot and each hand. Then she wiggled her fingers and toes, finally sighing with relief. “Apparently everything is working, yeah?”
“The doctors say you’ll be fine,” Stark said, a small catch in her voice.
“You want to give me a rundown of what fine means?”
“Uh, I guess the doctors should probably do that,” Stark hedged.
“Paula,” Savard said, and this time her voice trembled. “I’d prefer hearing it from you.”
“Hey.” Stark gently reached for her hand, cradling her fingers between her own palms. “You’re okay, Renee, really. You took a bullet in the left shoulder. They said it pretty much severed the major vein from your arm. They sewed that up. But the nerves are okay—they think you’ll have a little weakness for a few months.” Stark gathered herself and worked on sounding optimistic.
