Cost of Honor

by Radclyffe

  “Well, then,” Ari said, “you won’t have far to go when they drop us off. I will not be needing your…services for the rest of this night.”

  Witt wisely said nothing and neither did Oakes. Her training came in handy when she needed to appear as if she hadn’t heard a word of a conversation.

  The motorcade reached DC and made pretty good time through the late-night traffic, pulling to a stop in front of Blair and Cam’s building around midnight. The First Daughter’s detail piled out along with Blair and Cam, and as soon as they entered the building, the lead car pulled away to return to the motor pool garage. The remaining cars followed suit, and fifteen minutes later the vehicle carrying Ari, Oakes, and Witt broke off to head up Connecticut Avenue.

  The silence that filled the vehicle was thick enough to walk on. Oakes smiled to herself. Rostof was pissed. She was certain she never wanted Ari pissed at her. Her fury was a cold thing, like a steel blade sliding silently from a sheath. No hot, raging inferno for her. Oakes wondered if she ever raged. She wondered if anything ever set her on fire.

  She glanced at Witt, who seemed preternaturally comfortable, a posture Oakes recognized. The relaxed coil of tension, deep inside. The appearance of calm when every nerve ending was set to spark. Yeah, she could see the agent in Witt coming through, and a weird competitive urge flashed through her. What the hell?

  “Here we are,” O’Cleary said from the front seat with a suspicious degree of jocularity in his voice. Yeah, he was enjoying this whole scene. Oakes wondered why. She was certain she hadn’t given anything away.

  Not that there was anything to reveal.

  As soon as the vehicle pulled around the circular drive and stopped in front of the main lobby of the apartment complex, Ari slid across the seat and reached for the door.

  “Thank you,” she said, grasping for the handle.

  Oakes got there first, and for an instant, their hands joined. Ari’s skin was anything but cool. Heat rushed up Oakes’s arm and her heart thudded.

  “That’s my job,” Oakes said, gently evading Ari’s touch and gripping the handle.

  Witt somehow managed to get in front of her as the door swung open. She said as she passed Oakes, “Actually, it’s mine.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Good night,” Blair said to Sato, as she stepped into the elevators. He’d spend the rest of the night standing post in the lobby. The doors closed behind them, and she glanced at Cam. “Some start to the vacation.”

  Cam grinned wryly. “Not exactly what I had planned.”

  Blair raised an eyebrow. “I seem to remember that you had an agenda. Only partially fulfilled.”

  Chuckling, Cam hooked an arm around her waist, and Blair rested her head against Cam’s shoulder. Cam kissed the top of her head. “Tired?”

  “Beyond tired.” The elevator doors opened and they walked down the hall to their apartment. Cam greeted the agent there and keyed them inside. “There’s always tomorrow.”

  Blair took her hand. “Isn’t that how we started the day?”

  “Never gets old.”

  Blair kissed her. “No, it never does. You are the only sane thing in my life.”

  Cam framed her face. “Same goes.”

  “What do you think about Ari Rostof?” Blair asked as she dropped onto the sofa with a sigh.

  “About like I expected, since you recommended her.” Cam settled beside her and cupped her nape. Massaging the tight muscles there, she sifted Blair’s hair through her fingers. “Decisive. Savvy. Handled the press well.”

  “That sounds like a positive endorsement.”

  “Granted. She reminds me a little bit of you.”

  “Oh?” Blair said, casting Cam a sideways glance. “How so?”

  “Confident, capable, independent. Did you notice she didn’t consult with anyone before she made her decision?”

  “I know. I’m not surprised, given her situation. Nikolai Rostof could smother anyone who wasn’t strong enough to make their own way.”

  “Maybe that’s why she reminds me of you,” Cam said. “You’ve both had to struggle to shape your own lives in the face of some pretty restrictive family dynamics.”

  “Maybe. Our fathers are very different, though. Mine was controlling, but because he had to be. Hers, I think, because that’s his basic nature.”

  “A fine distinction,” Cam mused, drawing her closer, “but I imagine it felt the same when you were young.”

  Blair closed her eyes and rested her head against Cam’s shoulder. “Yes, it did, and that’s why I love you. Because you understand that.” She searched Cam’s face. “You’re caught up in all that now too. Just look at what happened to our vacation.”

  “That would have happened anyway, even if I wasn’t madly in love with the president’s daughter.” Blair laughed and Cam kissed her. “My job, after all.”

  “Between the two of us, our life isn’t really our own,” Blair said.

  Happily, the note of sadness that had once accompanied that truth was gone from her voice. Cam nodded. “Yep. We’ve still got a long ways to go, with your father looking at another term as president.”

  “I know. Does it feel like a sacrifice to you?”

  “No. Does it to you?” Cam said.

  “Not as long as I have you.” Blair took a deep breath. “You know, bed sounds really good right now.”

  Cam read the weariness in her eyes, stood, and tugged her down the hall to the bedroom.

  “Sit,” she said, guiding Blair gently down onto the side of the bed.

  Intrigued, Blair did as she was told. Cam knelt before her and slipped off her shoes. The act was so intimate that Blair’s heart tumbled in her chest. When she reached out to stroke Cam’s cheek, her fingers trembled. “How can you do this to me after all this time.”

  Cam looked up, and her gray eyes were as calm as a vast ocean that promised of storms to come, still far out to sea but moving slowly closer. “I adore you.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Good.” Carefully, with infinite precision, Cam unbuttoned Blair’s shirt. Then the top of her pants. Sliding both hands around Blair’s hips, she eased her up to her feet and drew her clothing off one piece at a time. When Blair was naked except for her bra and panties, Cam rose and pulled her against her body. “You are the most beautiful, amazing, sexy woman I’ve ever seen.”

  “Fancy stuff. I hope you intend to make good on that,” Blair murmured against Cam’s throat. Touched to her soul, she kissed her, lightly tasted her with the tip of her tongue. “I want you to touch me.”

  Cam stepped back, shed her suit one garment at a time, as Blair watched her slowly reveal herself. She wasn’t sure what moved her more—Cam’s beautiful body or the way she shed her pristine control, one piece of armor at a time, just for Blair. The weapon harness, into the top drawer. The commission book and badge to the dresser top. The watch, set down carefully next to the badge, until she was naked and adorned only by the glittering ring on her left hand.

  Blair’s throat was dry, her pulse was pounding, and urgency pulsed deep inside. She gestured to her bra and panties with a flick of a finger against satin. “You forgot something.”

  “No, I didn’t. I just like to see you in your lacy bits.”

  Blair laughed. “I didn’t even wear my most sexy ones.”

  “I don’t care. It always works for me.”

  “Are you done looking?”

  “For a minute.” Cam reached behind Blair’s back, unhooked her bra, and with the other hand, skimmed inside her panties and pushed them down. Blair stepped free of everything, pulled the sheets down, and stretched out. Cam slid in beside her and wrapped her in her arms.

  Blair nestled her cheek on Cam’s shoulder. “I’m not sure I can move.”

  “You don’t have to,” Cam murmured, stroking her back, the hollow at the base of her spine, the curve of her ass.

  Blair closed her eyes and gave in to the indulgence of simply being loved. When C
am traced a finger over the curve of her hip, down the hollow inside, and ever so lightly between her thighs, she arched, so ready, so easy.

  “I feel positively selfish here,” Blair whispered.

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” Cam turned her gently onto her back and, easing down her body, kissed her between her thighs. “I’ve got exactly what I want.”

  “Lucky me.” Blair closed her eyes, already soaring, and surrendered to the wonder that was Cam. The orgasm stripping her to the core was a gift, given and received.

  “Come here,” Blair whispered an eternity later.

  When Cam folded her in her arms, Blair slid one leg between Cam’s thighs. Satin heat welcomed her. “I love it when you feel like that.”

  Cam’s breath hitched, igniting a surge of satisfaction in Blair’s depths. She rocked into her, steadily building the pace and pressure to take Cam where she needed to go. Faster, harder, her own heart racing, her breath caught in her throat. Cam’s fingers tensed on her shoulders.

  “That’s it,” Blair murmured, head spinning with aching wonder as Cam went rigid and groaned.

  When Cam slid limply onto her back, a long sigh escaping her, Blair curled up beside her and rested her cheek on her chest. She lightly stroked Cam’s abdomen. “I think that checks all the boxes on today’s agenda.”

  “Mm, I think you’re right.” Cam kissed her.

  “Get some sleep,” Blair murmured on the cusp of drifting off. “Tomorrow is going to be another big day.”

  “I know,” Cam whispered. Tomorrow was the start of a whole new game.

  The Oasis

  Philadelphia

  Midnight

  Mitch palmed the hand that was slowly sliding up the inside of his left thigh and gently moved it around to the top of his leg.

  Mavis, as she had introduced herself, frowned. “Now why’d you do that, baby. I just know we’d be good together.”

  She leaned even farther forward, as if he hadn’t already had an outstanding view of her outstanding assets. He smiled. “I can’t imagine anything with you could be less than amazing.”

  She probably heard that about a million times from other guys or girls wanting to score, but he meant it, and she must have known it, because something in her eyes softened and she moved her hand.

  “You know,” she said quietly, the street accent dropping away, “my real name is Mary, but I read this book, you know, where one of the really cool chicks was named Mavis, and I really liked it, so I figured, why not. Who’s to know, right?”

  Mitch nodded. “I think you ought to be called whatever you want. They’re both nice names.”

  She smiled. “So, really, what’s a decent guy like you doing in a pit like this?”

  “What makes you think I’m so decent?”

  She looked down where his hand still gently held hers. “I know what I got to offer, and most guys wouldn’t say no.” She raised a brow. “Unless you got a girl?”

  He shook his head. He did, but not on the job. All the same, he didn’t take advantage. He didn’t need to go that far, and he didn’t want to.

  “So,” Mavis said quizzically, “just not your type, then?”

  “Another night, absolutely.”

  She laughed and moved her hand all the way off his leg. “So? Who is she? The one who caught your eye? Cause if you don’t have someone at home, and you’re in here looking, she’s got to be here.”

  He couldn’t really blush on command, but he was practiced enough to pretend he’d been caught out. He shrugged.

  “Uh-huh, though so.” She poked him in the chest. “It’s a good thing I’m not supersensitive or I’d be crushed.”

  “Oh, come on,” Mitch said, “you gotta know how hot you are.”

  “I do, and you are avoiding the question. So who’d you see that tripped your trigger?” She ran a fingertip down his neck and chuckled when he shivered. He was human, after all, and his body had a will of its own. Lucky for him, he had a lot of practice steering the ship out of the shallows when temptation beckoned.

  Mitch turned his head a fraction and glanced across the room to where Sandy sat at a table with the blonde from the surveillance photo.

  “Okay, which blonde are you fantasizing about naked?” Mavis asked archly.

  “The one with the red top. And it’s not what you think.”

  “Oh, right.” She laughed like she really meant it, tilted her head, and narrowed her eyes a little bit. Her lashes were long and dark, and real. “She is awfully cute. I bet she’d be hot in bed. Can’t say as I’d mind a taste of that.”

  Mitch’s stomach curled just a little because, boy, was Mavis right. “Not touching that one.”

  “Oh, like you don’t want to.” Mavis asked, “So what is it about her? Is it the blond thing? Because it usually is the freaking hair—it’s a dick magnet. That’s why I don’t like blondes.”

  Mavis’s black hair gleamed with some kind of glittery stuff in a dozen gorgeous shoulder-length braids.

  “Not the hair—and yours is great, by the way. To tell you the truth, it’s her ass. So, do you know her?”

  Mavis laughed. “No, I don’t. The other one comes in quite a bit, usually with one of those earnest white boys who take themselves too seriously. And you really are a dick.”

  Mitch’s gut tightened. Maybe they were on the right trail. “You mad?”

  “No, not really. You know why?”

  He shook his head, because he really didn’t. Turning down a girl, and then talking about another one, usually was not a great idea.

  “Because you’re honest. You didn’t take what you could have had, when you didn’t really want it.”

  “Well, to my way of thinking,” he said, “you should have what you deserve.”

  “Thank you.” She gave him a little shove. “And since you’re ruining my game, you should take off now.”

  Mitch signaled the bartender to send her another drink, left money on the counter, and said, “You be careful now, Mavis.”

  She leaned over and kissed him. “I always am. You too, baby.”

  He picked up his drink and wended his way through the tables to where Sandy was sitting with the target. They both looked up at him questioningly.

  “I was wondering if you two would like some company.” Lame, but sure to get a response.

  Sandy barked a laugh. “You think we’re together?”

  “I—”

  “Because if we were,” Sandy said, “do you really think we’d want you around?”

  “Okay, sorry, my mistake,” he said as he backed away.

  Rolling her eyes, Sandy glanced over at the blonde. “What do you think—you want to do him?”

  The blonde looked a little nonplussed for an instant, then seemed to get into it. She pursed her lips. “Well, my boyfriend might want in on it too.”

  Sandy raised the shoulder. “Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

  Mitch held up a hand, gesturing with the beer bottle in the other. “Okay, my mistake. Really, I’ll just leave you two ladies to your evening.”

  Sandy snaked a hand out and grabbed his wrist. “Oh, relax, snowflake. You’re safe with us. Have a seat.” Sandy looked over at the blonde. “Okay with you?”

  “Sure, but I’m not gonna fuck him.”

  Sandy grinned. “Neither am I. At least not until he buys me a drink.”

  Washington, DC

  Midnight

  The detail vehicles pulled away, leaving the three of them in front of the sprawling Kennedy-Warren complex that spanned a block and a half adjacent to the zoo. The night was just cool enough to require a jacket, and Oakes wondered if Ari was cold in only the silk shirt and pants she’d worn for the TV interview.

  Nika Witt said, “If you have need of me, Ms. Rostof, you should have my number.”

  “Yes, that was provided to me. I should be fine, thank you,” Ari said.

  Oakes waited silently while Witt turned, walked inside the foyer, and spoke to the security guard out
fitted as a bellman who buzzed her through into the main lobby. She didn’t stop at the desk but went straight for the elevators.

  “No check-in,” Oakes said.

  “That’s because she’s been here before.” Ari spun on her heel and walked down the curving sidewalk toward Connecticut Avenue. Oakes fell in beside her.

  “That would be my guess too.” Oakes hesitated a second, then added, “Probably why she doesn’t have a suitcase, either.”

  “No, she’s all moved in. Probably has been for a while.”

  “She’d be hard to miss,” Oakes said, keeping her tone conversational. Ari was both angry and upset, and Oakes didn’t have any reason or desire to make either one of those emotions any worse. Interesting, because she was used to sparring with the closest people in her life all the time. Living and working with a bunch of Secret Service agents was a lot like living in a frat house, or sorority house, or mixed house, to be totally accurate. Everyone always subtly jostling for position, playing a friendly game of one-upmanship, looking for the weaknesses to poke. Because, after all, that’s what friendly competitors—or competitive friends, maybe—did with one another.

  Ari didn’t fit into either of those categories, and not just because she wasn’t one of Oakes’s colleagues. She was different because, well, because she was such a fascinating woman, and Oakes didn’t see any of her fellow agents—male or female—in quite that way.

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean that she’s been watching you,” Oakes added. “I suspect if she was living there, you would’ve run into her in the hall or the elevator or the lobby.”

  Ari shot her a sideways glance. “Really. And if you had been assigned to watch me,” she said, putting a particularly acid twist to the word watch that made it sound a lot like spy, “I would’ve noticed you?”

  “Well,” Oakes said, caught between pride, honesty, and a desire to smooth over the rough waters she’d just stirred up, “possibly not.”

  Ari snorted. “Tell me that you are being humble.”