by Radclyffe
"Okay. Top of the list—mercenary and paramilitary groups." Cam pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ignore the headache that was beginning to throb between her eyes. "And we need to look for a connection between these same groups and Al Qaeda." She swept her gaze from Felicia to Valerie, recalling the conversation she'd had with the president's security advisor that morning. "Because it looks more and more like Osama's claim to being behind the attack on the World Trade Center is true."
"God," Felicia exclaimed. "How did we all miss that?"
"That's probably what everyone in DC is trying to figure out right now," Cam said as she stood. "And that's why we have to be the ones to spearhead this portion of the investigation. Let's switch our emphasis from identifying the dead men to collecting everything we can about the organizations we mentioned and finding out all there is to know about Foster. He's our only solid link at this point."
"So far," Felicia said, rising to her feet as well, "he's squeaky clean. An all-American boy. Prep schools, Ivy League colleges, and straight into government service. He came to Treasury by way of graduate school in economics at UVA."
"Find out where he's traveled, especially abroad—and with whom."
"Working it."
"Good. There has to be something there, we just have to find it. Let's compile a list of his family members, girlfriends, boyfriends, roommates, every person he's ever known. These guys"—she pointed to the autopsy photos—"or the guys who trained them, are going to be in there somewhere."
"We're on it, Commander," Felicia said. "But that kind of record search takes time."
"I was told we'd have free access to anything we needed. If you run into a roadblock, tell me about it. I'll make a phone call."
"Thanks."
"Davis, I need you to make some transportation arrangements for the morning."
Felicia joined Cam on her way to the door. "Going somewhere, Commander?"
"No, it's for a new arrival."
Chapter Twenty-three
Thursday, September 20
A t just after five a.m., Valerie awakened from a restless sleep. After Cam had left the previous evening, she and Felicia had continued working for several more hours, setting up graphic charts and data grids to organize the plethora of information they had already accumulated, with more to come. They'd finally both admitted their efficiency had zeroed out and it was time to quit for the night. She'd gone to bed, but sleep wouldn't come. She tossed and turned, her mind and body seeking something she couldn't define, until she exhausted herself and drifted into uneasy slumber.
She lay for a moment, staring at her cell phone on the bedside table. She reached out and held it in front of her face, her thumb hovering over the keypad. It would take so very little to banish the loneliness. Thirty seconds of hearing that low, sultry voice welcoming her. It would be so easy to give in, just once. She pressed the first three numbers, then pushed off and dropped the phone back onto the table.
Even though she'd had barely three hours sleep, she got up and showered, then pulled on a soft red cotton V-neck sweater and jeans. She slipped her feet into deck shoes and made her way through the quiet house to the dining room. Working only by the light from the monitors, she continued with the data entry, stopping intermittently to open a Web browser to cross-check facts with additional databases. She registered the sound of the shower running, followed by the rattle of utensils coming from the kitchen, but she kept on.
"How long have you been at that?" Felicia asked as she set a mug of coffee next to Valerie's right arm.
"Thanks," Valerie said with a sigh of appreciation. She checked her watch. "A few hours. Couldn't sleep. Too many things running around in my head."
"I know what you mean." Felicia dropped a hand onto Valerie's shoulder and squeezed. "You should take a break. Too many hours in a row and you'll start missing things."
'I will. Soon."
"Finding anything?"
"It's what I'm not finding that's the problem."
"How so?" Felicia sipped her coffee and watched the marsh grass blow outside the window. The sky was an even pewter gray, broken only by darker thunderclouds that threatened rain.
"There's no national registry for identifying marks—scars, tattoos, that kind of thing. Even trying to go state by state is hit or miss. If the various criminal divisions don't input the data, it just never shows up. And even when they do..." She brushed her hair away from her face with an impatient gesture. "It's damn hard to find it."
"We can't even share intelligence between security divisions at the federal level," Felicia noted, settling into a chair at the other computer. "It's too much to hope that the states would be able to."
"I'm willing to bet that situation changes now."
"I think a lot of things in this country are going to change." Felicia regarded Valerie contemplatively. "Do you really think nobody knew what was coming?"
Valerie hesitated for a second, then shook her head. "No, I'm willing to bet a lot of people knew something. The problem is not enough people knew everything —or even enough. We've been watching Osama—even before the attack on the Cole. But we've never gotten more than bits and pieces of the puzzle."
"Well, let's hope we can find a few of the pieces ourselves."
Two hours later, Valerie pushed back from the computer. "I need some air."
"You should get some sleep."
"Thanks," Valerie said quietly. "I'm okay. A walk will clear the cobwebs out."
"Take a jacket," Felicia said absently, her attention refocused on her monitor. "Supposed to rain."
Valerie pulled on a black nylon windbreaker on her way out through the rear door of the guesthouse. She crossed the deck and started down the narrow sand path to the beach. The wind had picked up and whipped her shoulder-length hair around her face. She hunched her shoulders and put her hands in the jacket pockets, trying to stay warm in the unexpected chill. Within minutes she was at the ocean's edge, surveying the steady march of white-tipped waves that broke and roiled over the small stones and shells that littered the beach inches from her toes. She narrowed her eyes and searched the horizon, but she couldn't make out the presence of any life. They must be out there, the merchant ships and fishing trawlers, fighting the elements, dwarfed by the immensity of nature's power. She looked up into the sky, which had darkened now almost to black, wondering if there would ever come a time again when the heavens would hold only beauty and not the threat of death. With a sigh, she turned away from the house and walked along the ocean's edge, unmindful of the first drops of rain. She had always known her purpose, always understood her place, but in the last few years the world had shifted on its axis and she had lost her balance. What had once been so clear, so simply delineated in black and white, had turned, like the sky, to ever more murky shades of gray. The rain fell harder, and now and then she absently brushed the water from her eyes.
She knew she imagined it when the wind carried the sound of her name, and she kept on. When it came the second time, unmistakable, she turned and held the hair back from her face with one hand. Down the beach, hurrying toward her from the direction of the guesthouse, was a woman in a navy windbreaker much like her own, her hair tucked up beneath a cap. There was no mistaking her gender, however, or, as she drew closer, her identity. Valerie held her breath, afraid to blink and break the spell.
"Valerie!" Diane called.
It was the first time in her life she could ever recall a wish coming true. She stood very still, trying to absorb every detail of Diane's face. The slight frown—worry or anger? Uncertain, Valerie waited for judgment.
Diane stopped inches from Valerie. "You're soaked."
"I got caught out in the rain."
"You should've come back."
"I would have. Soon."
Diane put both hands behind Valerie's head, tangling her fingers in the wet blond strands, and pulled Valerie's mouth to hers. Valerie's lips were cold, but her mouth was molten. Diane moaned softly as sh
e delved inside, swirling her tongue over satin-smooth surfaces until the unexpected sensation of teeth tugging at her lip sent a stab of pleasure straight to her center. Her legs trembled, and she pressed hard into Valerie to steady herself, not surprised when strong arms closed around her waist and held her securely. She tilted her head back and kissed the tip of Valerie's chin. "I missed you."
"Oh God," Valerie gasped, burying her face against Diane's neck. "I missed you too. I'm sorry. I couldn't call. The security.
"I know." Diane curved one arm around her shoulders while she stroked her face with her free hand. "I thought it was something like that."
Valerie lifted her face. "You did? You didn't think I'd just.. .walked away?"
A small, sad smile flickered across Diane's face. "Only very late at night, when I was very tired and I ached for you."
"I'm sorry." Valerie cradled Diane's face in one hand, a thumb brushing at the rain that streaked her cheeks. The water was warm. "You're crying."
"I didn't know what to expect when I saw you again." Diane found Valerie's hand and clasped it. "I'm not used to wanting a woman the way I want you. I'm a little...a lot...out of my element."
"Me too." Valerie laughed and tilted her face to the sky. "Oh God, you can say that again." She tugged Diane's hand. "Come on, we need to get in out of the rain. This is crazy."
"I know," Diane said breathlessly as they began to run, still hand in hand. "I'm freezing."
"So am I," Valerie called above the wind. "Did you see Felicia?"
"Yes, she was on her way up to the main house."
"Blair arranged for you to come?"
Diane hurried up the path toward the deck, her feet sinking into wet sand. "Sent a car. Not the usual big ugly thing, and the spookies were cuter." She jumped up the stairs and stamped her feet to rid them of bits of detritus. "I don't think they were the normal Secret Service crew."
"They're probably Whitley's private security," Valerie leaned a shoulder against the wall under the eaves, trying to avoid the rain. She touched Diane's hand, then stroked up her forearm. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes. Blair and I have been best friends forever. She.. .we,. .needed for us to be together right now. She called. I came." Diane searched Valerie's face. "So I'm a house guest."
"For how long?"
"I don't know. Is it all right I'm here?" Diane caught Valerie's other hand and held them both, squeezing gently. "Because if you don't want me to st—"
Valerie pulled her into her arms and stopped her words with a hungry kiss. When she finally pulled away, she said, "I want you. Don't ever doubt it."
"Tell me that again," Diane murmured, sliding down the zipper on Valerie's windbreaker. She slipped both hands inside and underneath the light sweater, finding warm skin. Her pupils instantly dilated with a rush of arousal. "You're so beautiful."
"Let's shower."
"Felicia—"
"If she comes back, she won't bother us." Valerie opened the door and pulled Diane inside. "I'm still on my lunch break."
*
"How's it going?" Cam asked, lightly resting both hands on Blair's shoulders from behind. Blair sat on a high backless stool in front of a wooden easel that was angled to allow her an unobstructed view through the wide windows out over the dunes.
Blair looked at Cam over her shoulder, her expression abstracted. "It's an amazing storm."
"The weather report says we're looking at a nor'easter. There's going to be a lot of water coming our way." Cam studied the canvas. It was an astonishing riot of turbulent purples, indigo, and grays verging on black, cut through with slashes of white. She could almost feel the water beat against her skin. "God, that's fabulous."
"You think?" Blair's voice was both pensive and pleased.
"It's.. .awesome." When Blair rested her head back against Cam's chest, she slid both arms around her, resting her chin against the top of Blair's head. "I've never seen you do anything quite like this. It's.. .raw. That's not just about the weather, is it?"
Blair gave a small start and then laughed quietly. She closed her hands over Cam's and pulled Cam's arms tightly around her. "How could I forget that your mother is one of the world's finest artists. Of course, you would notice these things."
Cam kissed the top of Blair's head. "I notice you."
"I know you do." Blair was silent for a moment, staring out the window and watching the two women run through the dunes in the rain. Diane's hair had come loose from her cap and tumbled down almost to her shoulders, darkened by the water to a rich burnished gold. Valerie, soaked to the skin, was laughing. Blair thought she'd never seen either of them look quite so happy. "They're a beautiful couple, aren't they."
"They are."
"Did you know?"
Cam shook her head. "I suspected. Did you?"
"Not that things had gone this far. I don't believe I've ever seen Diane in love."
"Is that what they are?" Cam bent down and kissed the side of Blair's neck.
"Oh, I think so." Blair tilted her head back and looked up into Cam's face. "Does it bother you?"
Cam's gray eyes darkened, a reflection of the wild storm pummeling the island. "Are you asking me if there's something between Valerie and me?"
"Darling," Blair murmured, reaching up to stroke Cam's cheek. "I know there's something between you. She used to be in love with you. And I know that you cared for her."
"Cared for. That's different than—"
"Cameron."
"What?"
"You're being a bit of a jerk."
Cam's mouth twitched. "Am I?"
"I know you're not in love with her. It was just a simple question... more or less." Blair grinned. "Okay, there are moments when I'm jealous. But that's just because she's a beautiful woman and there was a time when she tou—"
"Don't." Cam leaned down farther and found Blair's mouth. She kissed her until she felt the tension ebb from Blair's body, to be replaced by a different kind of urgency. Then she drew her head back and said, "I love you. No, it doesn't bother me. Sometimes...sometimes I find myself hoping she'll finally be happy."
Blair stood, turning until she could press against Cam, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. She nuzzled her neck, kissed the edge of her jaw, and finally her mouth. "You see? That's why I love you."
Before Cam could reply, Blair silenced her with another kiss.
*
"Are you sure about this?" Diane asked, dropping the towel over a wicker chair as she crossed the room. "I don't want to compromise you with your colleagues."
Valerie was already reclining in the center of the queen-sized bed, the sheets thrown back, her skin flushed from their recent shower. She was nude and she was breathtaking. Like I can walk away, Diane thought, feeling the heaviness of desire suffuse her. She was used to taking her pleasure from pleasuring women, but as much as she wanted Valerie to come screaming from her touch, she ached for the soft pull of Valerie's mouth on her nipples and her clitoris.
Valerie turned on her side and propped her head on one hand. Her smile was slow as her gaze drifted over Diane's body. "If you're really worried, we can get dressed and watch the storm,"
Diane settled one knee on the mattress next to Valerie and leaned over her, her breasts mere millimeters from Valerie's face. "We could do that. I love how wild it is out there."
"Or..." Valerie grasped Diane's hips and, rolling onto her back, brought Diane down on top of her. She slid one leg over the back of Diane's, bringing their centers together. "You could stay here with me, and..." She ran her lips back and forth over Diane's nipple. "We can rage together."
"Keep doing that..." Diane arched her back and groaned. "And I won't care if the entire Secret Service team comes through the door."
Valerie lifted her hips and rolled them both over in one easy motion, sliding down on the bed as they settled. She kissed the tanned, tight skin below Diane's navel. "I can't stop thinking about this. About how you smell. About how you taste. About how mu
ch I need to touch you." She turned her head and kissed the butter-soft skin at the very top of Diane's thigh. "Please, please let me love you."
"Darling," Diane murmured, her fingers drifting through Valerie's hair, guiding her lower, "you don't ever have to ask."
Chapter Twenty-four
Monday, September 24
I don't want to go back." Diane refilled her wineglass from the bottle of cabernet that sat in the center of the glass-topped coffee table. She sat on the sofa in khaki shorts and a navy sleeveless blouse with her feet propped on a rattan footstool.
Blair slouched next to her with her legs extended and her bare feet resting on the edge of the low table. Her grey Champion sweats were threadbare and hung off her hips; her red T-shirt with the sleeves and lower half torn off proclaimed "Arnie's Gym." She nudged Diane's knee with hers. "So don't. There's plenty of room here, and I don't get the sense that you're bored."
Diane smiled, thinking of the late-night assignations in Valerie's room and the early-morning walks on the beach, rain or no rain. "Bored. No, not that." She sipped the wine, then watched the bloodred liquid swirl in the glass. "It's been a long time since you and I have had this much time together. It's been good. And I can't say that I mind catching up on my reading."
"And then there are the other benefits," Blair remarked dryly. "Eating pizza every other night, strolling in the freezing rain, or if you're really lucky like me, finding strangers in the kitchen when you're in your underwear—"
"God, I thought that guy was going to kill himself trying to get out the door when we walked in that morning. He probably thought Cam would be right behind you and that she'd shoot him on the spot."
Blair laughed. "It wouldn't be the first time one of my security people has seen me undressed."
"Yes, but I'd bet Tanner's crew aren't used to it."
"True, and they've adjusted to our routine very well. She's got good people. I wasn't so sure when Cam decided to have them rotate with the Secret Service agents inside the house, but it's been fine." Blair angled sideways and rested her cheek against her arm, which she extended along the sofa back. Gazing at Diane, she grinned. "And don't forget how much fun it is to report your every movement to the crew chief. How could you possibly think of leaving?"
