Cost of Honor

by Radclyffe

  “Somehow, I bet you’d be good at that.” Oakes was pretty sure Ari could get people to do anything, just by looking at them the way she looked at Oakes right now. As if Oakes was the only person in the room.

  “In high school, and then in college, I found myself heading lots of different committees, and it occurred to me that that happened because I was able to synthesize the opinions of others and come up with a message that people would agree to. Or buy in to.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like politics.”

  “Mm. True.” Ari smiled as if she was laughing at herself. “I also discovered that I liked it. It’s satisfying. I guess it’s my way of imposing order on chaos.”

  “You could’ve done that in the network newsroom. I imagine a job was waiting for you.”

  For an instant, Ari’s face shuttered closed. “There was a lot waiting for me, but none of it was what I chose.”

  “Sorry, if I stepped over the line there,” Oakes said, sipping at the scotch she wasn’t actually interested in finishing. The last thing she wanted was to cloud her head any more than it already was. Ari was much too interesting to miss anything.

  “That’s all right, you didn’t. It’s natural to ask.” Ari finished her wine and pushed the empty glass across the bar. “While it was made very clear to me what my father’s aspirations for me were, he never strong-armed me in that direction. He’s resilient. That’s why he’s so successful. When I changed course, so did he. At least, in his expectations.”

  “It sounds like he raised a daughter in his own image, at least in terms of being independent and determined,” Oakes said.

  “Thank you.” Ari shook her head. “I’m not sure he would’ve been all that happy had he known that was happening.”

  “Well, it’s clear he doesn’t give up easily. I see that Witt is still with you.” Oakes had seen her as soon as she’d walked in, sitting alone at a two-top with a view of the entrance as well as the bar. Typical positioning for someone doing what she was doing, which was watching Ari.

  “Yes, she has the remarkably boring job of watching me talk on the telephone a great part of the day, waiting around while I have meetings with TV producers and reporters, hold staff meetings, and have a nightcap at a hotel bar. A horrible job, really.”

  “You eat dinner together?” The idea of the two of them spending their off time together made the hair on the back of Oakes’s neck stand up.

  “What? With Nika? No.” Ari’s brow quirked. “Most of the time I eat all my meals at my desk. Nika and I are cordial but not friendly. We’re not friends. I have no idea how she doesn’t absolutely lose her mind doing this work.”

  “You get really good at talking to yourself,” Oakes said.

  “You must,” Ari said. “Speaking of your work. What are you doing until Saturday? Or am I not allowed to ask?”

  Oakes grinned. “I’ll be standing post on the hotel floor where the president is staying until he arrives. And anything else the advance team leader needs me to do.”

  “Okay, that sounds boring.”

  “Well, considering the floor has been completely cleared so there are no guests, I won’t be seeing much of anything, hopefully. If I did, then I’d have some work to do.”

  Ari’s face suddenly grew solemn. “I didn’t mean to make light of what you do. I’m sorry.”

  “Hey,” Oakes said quickly. “I wasn’t bothered. And you’re right. It’s going to be boring.”

  “Perhaps I can buy you dinner tomorrow night. That is, if you’re not working then.”

  Oakes’s pulse did a little jitter, which did nothing to the lightness in her head or the want churning in her depths. “I’ve got the day shift tomorrow. I’ll be done at four.”

  “Shall we say seven?” Ari asked.

  “Sounds perfect,” Oakes said.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Washington, DC

  Game Day minus 35 days

  11:05 p.m.

  The only light in the bedroom came from the digital clock on the bedside table, a faintly eerie red glow. The only sound was…the silence of wakefulness. Cam slid her arm around Blair’s shoulders and tugged her close. “You’re not sleeping.”

  Blair sighed and nestled her cheek on Cam’s shoulder. “Sorry. I’m keeping you awake.”

  “No, you aren’t. I was sleeping, but I could hear you thinking in my dreams.”

  Blair laughed and ran her hand down the center of Cam’s body, letting it rest on her abdomen. “That’s a very scary thought, you know. I don’t think I should be invading your innermost private places.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I live in hope.”

  Blair nipped at her throat. “Careful what you wish for.”

  “Only you, baby.”

  Smiling, Blair closed her eyes. She wasn’t having much success shutting off her brain, and she obviously hadn’t managed not to disturb Cam either. Since they were both awake now, no point struggling in silence. “I keep thinking about my father and Lucinda.”

  “Not in graphic detail, I hope.”

  “God,” Blair said, “absolutely not.”

  Cam kissed the top of Blair’s head and massaged the tight muscles in Blair’s shoulders. After a few moments, the kinks slowly began to relax, but Blair’s body still radiated tension. Something important had to be going on to keep Blair awake. Blair was not a worrier. She lived very much in the present and dealt with whatever came along as it came along. The only event she worried about in advance was the danger of Cam’s job, and they’d both learned to live with that. “What’s bothering you?”

  “Not bothered so much, just worried a little.”

  “About?”

  “All my life, the father I’ve known has belonged more to the public, to the people, than to any one person. Maybe even to himself. I think I might be jealous that’s changing.”

  “You mean that Lucinda has a special place in his life?”

  “Mostly that he’s willing to change his life for her.”

  And not for me went unspoken, but Cam heard it all the same.

  “I can see how that would bother you,” Cam said.

  Blair sighed. “Selfish, isn’t it.”

  “No, it’s natural. He’s your father, and that makes him one of the most important people in your life.”

  “Yes, but I shouldn’t be jealous that he has fallen in love, that he’s happy. Really, I’m not twelve anymore.”

  “No,” Cam said gently, “but when you were twelve, everything changed, and you didn’t have anything to say about it. You lost one of the most important people in your life, and that left a hole that at twelve was enormous and never gets completely filled, no matter how old you are.”

  “I am such an idiot,” Blair murmured.

  Cam frowned. “Okay, that’s a non sequitur.”

  Blair raised up on her elbow, her face a flickering canvas of light and dark in the dim illumination. So beautiful, Cam’s heart stopped for a second.

  “When you were twelve,” Blair said, “you lost someone special too. Horribly, with no chance to prepare. And what did you do about it? You turned what could have been a life of anger and bitterness into one of meaning. You became this incredibly brave, strong, determined person who is willing to sacrifice for other people.”

  “I love that you see me that way,” Cam said, “but that’s not why I do what I do.” She had secret places, places she feared might tarnish Blair’s image of her, but for Blair, she would always choose truth. “I don’t think I consciously chose to be brave or admirable. I wasn’t brave that day, and some part of me is always trying to make up for that failure. Maybe even punish myself for it.”

  “And risking your life for others is part of the punishment?” Blair said.

  “I don’t think of it that way, but it does help me balance the scales somehow.”

  “You can call it whatever you like,” Blair said, “but I know who you are. And I love you for it.”

  “I know, and that is what I co
unt on every day.” Cam tightened her hold. “And I think you should give yourself a chance to adjust to Andrew’s news. By the time they’re married, chances are you’ll feel a lot differently.”

  “You’re right. We have to get through the next six months first.” Blair let out a long breath. “I don’t ever remember the other campaigns being this crazy. It’s like a sharkfest, with loyalties changing every day.”

  “The climate in the country has changed,” Cam said. “Even the parties have fractured, so allegiances are constantly shifting.”

  “And we’re looking at nonstop campaigning from now until the convention,” Blair grumbled. “I just love living out of my suitcase in one hotel after another.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d consider cutting back on some of—”

  “You know I can’t. And I don’t want to. One thing I’m absolutely sure of—my father is the best person for the job.”

  “Then we’ll just pack a really big suitcase,” Cam said.

  “Well, there is one good thing about being on the campaign trail,” Blair said.

  “What’s that?”

  Blair kissed her. “I really like hotel sex.”

  “Do we have to wait for Atlanta?”

  Laughing, Blair slid on top of her. “Well, since I’m awake…”

  Camden

  After trailing the Corvette off the bridge into Camden, Rebecca dropped back on the nearly empty streets until Trish turned onto Front Street, a narrow street running parallel to the waterfront. The area had once been a working-class neighborhood of families living in identical row houses with stoops lined up along the sidewalks like gapped teeth, and tiny backyards barely big enough for the clotheslines strung between the porches and telephone poles. Now the factories that had sustained those families were closed, and the port activity had shifted across the river to Philadelphia. The neighborhoods deteriorated, drugs and crime—the byproducts of poverty—rose, and urban decay spread through the streets like a blight.

  Rebecca eased around the corner and saw the Corvette pull into a parking place half a block away. Keeping a steady pace, she drove by as Trish and Sandy got out, and mentally marked the building they entered as she watched in her rearview mirror. On her second pass around the block, she noted the number, fortunately illuminated by a nearby streetlight, and proceeded to park where she’d have a view of the front entrance.

  With her phone still open to Sandy’s call, she texted Sloan.

  Need a rundown occupants 332 Front St Camden. Alert Watts and McCurdy. May need backup that address

  Sloan would be up. She almost always was. Sure enough, ten seconds later her screen lit up.

  Copy that

  Undercover work took a wild love of risk and an uncanny instinct for reading danger signs. Sandy had both. Rebecca settled back behind the wheel to watch and listen.

  “Hey,” Sandy said, slipping into a narrow space on the sofa, already crowded with two guys and a girl. The girl was next to her, twentysomething, long straight flyaway red hair, faded jeans with holes in the knees, scoop-neck white T-shirt with a black swirly design, and strappy sandals too cool for the weather.

  “Hey,” the girl said, shooting a quick look in her direction. “I’m Ireland.”

  “Elle,” Sandy said, scanning the rest of the living room where Trish had guided her. From what she could make out on the quick trip from the bland gray metal security door and the dank hall outside the second-floor flat, the place had one bedroom, a galley kitchen, and a bathroom in addition to this ten by fifteen room with a pair of windows facing the river. The space was crowded with more guys than girls, seven not counting Trish and the guy who called himself Mark but whose name was obviously Matt. A few people had beers, and a screw-top gallon bottle of cheap white wine sat in the middle of a fake walnut coffee table. Definitely not a party.

  “So, Ireland,” Sandy murmured, sliding her phone out and slipping it into her lap so the lieutenant would hear their whispers, “what’s going on?”

  “First time?” asked the girl who almost certainly hadn’t been christened Ireland.

  “Yeah, pretty much. I hooked up with Trish and…Matt from the rally, you know.” Sandy took a chance, hoping she was headed in the right direction, and embellished a little. Maybe more than a little, considering she had zero idea what all these people were about. She was really just following her intuition, and if she was way off base, what’s the worst that could happen? No way was anybody going to do anything other than toss her out with this many witnesses. The trick to creating a background in this situation was to connect the dots for everyone else before they realized there were gaps in the outline. “I have been into things for a while. I just couldn’t find the right place, the right people. You know what I mean?”

  “That’s because most people talk the talk, but that’s as far as it goes.”

  Sandy got the buzz then, that instinctive thrill telling her she was on the right trail. “That’s totally it. I tagged into a couple groups online, you know, but that’s all you ever get. Just a lot of words.”

  Ireland shifted until her eyes met Sandy’s and she looked at her for a long, silent moment. Sandy had been scrutinized by a lot tougher people than this girl, who looked like she’d never gone hungry a day in her life, and let her look. People only saw what she wanted them to see. And right now, Ireland would see someone a little bit naïve, a lot eager, and tough enough to play in the big leagues. That was all good, because Sandy had one of those feelings that this might be a bigger game than anyone suspected, and she intended to have a front row seat.

  “This is my floor,” Ari said, as the elevator door opened on three. Oakes had pushed five. Hurrying before the doors began their inevitable cycle to close, she said, “I’ve got coffee, seltzer, and an unopened bottle of red in my room…if you’re not quite ready for bed.”

  Oakes reached above Ari’s head and held the door open with her arm. The hall beyond, like the elevator they’d rode up in, was empty except for them. Ari’s back was against the open door, and Oakes was very close. So close she could count her eyelashes, if she hadn’t been so absorbed in her mouth. Her very sexy, full, kissable mouth. Ari blinked.

  “I appreciate the offer,” Oakes said. “But—”

  “Right,” Ari said quickly. “I forgot you have the early shift tomorrow.” She laughed. “And I’ve got an eight o’clock meeting.”

  “That’s not what I was about to say.”

  No parts of their bodies touched, but every cell in Ari’s vibrated. The inch of space between them tingled with charged electricity, like the heavy ozone-laden air right before a storm broke free and lashed the earth with spears of lightning. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “The problem is,” Oakes murmured, “I am ready for bed.”

  Ari started to smile. Oakes’s mouth got in the way. The kiss was one hundred percent Oakes. Confident, skillful, and challenging. Oakes’s mouth slanted to cover hers completely, the tip of her tongue teasing at the seam of Ari’s mouth until she opened for her. And then, when she’d expected—wanted—Oakes to explore, she’d disappeared with just a flicker of sensation over the surface of her lower lip. Teasing her, toying with her. Oh no—not so fast.

  Ari grabbed a handful of Oakes’s cotton polo shirt, twisted it in her grip, and pushed her way deeper into Oakes’s mouth. If Oakes wouldn’t give when she’d obviously offered, she’d take. God, she tasted good.

  Oakes grunted, sounding surprised and every bit as ready as Ari. She slid an arm around Ari’s waist and kissed her back, probing and demanding. Heat flared and tension coiled just below Ari’s rib cage, forcing the breath from her body.

  As abruptly as she had begun, Oakes drew back. “Cameras.”

  “Of course,” Ari said, working to catch her breath. “Your people?”

  Oakes shook her head. “Not on this floor. Just routine security and probably no one’s actually monitoring, but”—she drew her finger along the edge of Ari’s jaw
, brushed her thumb over Ari’s lower lip—“this is personal. Private.”

  “Yes, it is.” Especially given she’d been about to reach under Oakes’s shirt.

  “Not out of line, then?” Oakes murmured.

  Ari shook her head, releasing the grip she had on Oakes’s polo shirt and smoothing out the wrinkles with her fingertips. “Most definitely not. After all, I made the first move.”

  Oakes grinned. “You did.”

  “So,” Ari said, trying for cool but aware her voice was shaking, “dinner, then? Tomorrow.”

  “Seven. I’ll be there. Wait—where?”

  “I’ll text you.”

  Oakes nodded and backed into the elevator.

  Ari stepped out and watched Oakes as the doors slowly slid closed. She’d known what she was offering when she’d invited Oakes back to her room. That wasn’t at all her typical style, but then nothing about the way Oakley Weaver made her feel was usual.

  Oakes exited on the fifth floor, her heart still pounding. She hadn’t meant to do that, but she was damn glad she did. She been wanting to kiss Ari Rostof since the first time she’d seen her. Before she’d even known her. Just being in the same space with her, buffeted by her energy, bombarded by the intensity that radiated from her with every word and every movement, that was a storm that had put her on edge. Now that edge was honed to blade sharpness.

  Blood still humming, she let herself into the room she was sharing with Evyn and tiptoed in the dark toward the bed.

  “Didn’t expect to see you tonight,” Evyn said from the darkness.

  “Why?”

  “You didn’t notice me downstairs in the bar. You were too busy with Ari Rostof.”

  “Just having a drink and a friendly conversation.” Oakes shed her clothes in a pile on the floor and flopped down on the other double bed.