Chapter twenty

 Hours had passed in silence, it seemed, with Stark or Savard or Grant standing guard duty at the door. Finally, Paula Stark stepped into the room and said quietly, "Ms. Powell, if you would pick up the phone on the table next to you please."

For a moment, Blair hesitated, staring at the phone with a mixture of apprehension and wonder. Such a simple thing - contact with the outside world. Exhilarating, and somehow frightening. Then she reached for it and said, "Yes?"

For a moment all she heard was strange static, and then a faintly metallic version of the only voice she wanted to hear.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't get away before and I just now found a scrambled line. I can only talk a minute. Are you all right?"

Suddenly, Blair didn't care where she was or how long she would have to be there. This was the one thing she needed. "I'm fine. Are you hurt?"

"No."

The answer came too quickly, and even with the electronic interference, Blair heard that tone in Cam's voice that she always got when she was being official and avoiding a question. If she hadn't been so relieved to hear from her, she would have been pissed. There would be time for that later. "Cam? What's happening?"

"I'm sorry. I can't talk now, but I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Be careful."

Then there was only silence on the line. Nevertheless, for the first time since the explosion rocked her world, Blair was able to draw a full breath without feeling a hard ball of pain in her chest. Cam was safe - she was safe - and she had found the time in the midst of what must have been pandemonium to call her.

She replaced the receiver and looked across the room to where Stark stood next to the front door, glancing out the window. It was already close to ten p.m. "What are Mac and Cam doing back there?"

Stark turned from the window, satisfied that the two new FBI agents who had arrived an hour earlier were well positioned outside. She welcomed the additional surveillance assistance, because she and Savard and Grant were tired and stressed, and, even rotating shifts they couldn't adequately cover both the grounds and the interior. Even with the fibbies they were still under-manned, but that would get better once the Commander and the rest of the team arrived.

Blair watched her, waiting for an answer.

Stark's automatic response was a non-response, but when she looked into Blair's face, she caught an unguarded glimpse of her worry. Then she thought about what Savard had said about the Commander and her, and answered, "I imagine they're meeting with the ATF bomb unit, trying to get a profile on the bomb and the bomber. The first walk-through is always the most important. The Commander wouldn't leave that to anyone else."

Blair had an uneasy feeling she knew what that meant. "The walk-through?"

Stark hesitated. It wasn't exactly a pretty picture.

"The epicenter of the explosion was the lead vehicle," Savard said, walking in from the kitchen with yet more coffee. "Depending upon the nature of the accelerant, and the amount, and the exact placement of the device on the car, the blast radius could be anywhere from ten feet to a hundred yards. Anything and everything remaining in that area is potential evidence."

"Aren't there specialists to take care of that kind of thing?" Blair asked, her throat dry. 'Everything' included people too, she supposed.

Stark nodded. "Of course, from the ATF and the Bureau and most likely the NYPD and the State Police, too. It's probably a real jurisdictional snafu down there right now."

Savard snorted derisively. "That's putting it mildly." She was quite sure that's why she hadn't heard from her own chief. Doyle was undoubtedly trying to direct the activities by claiming that Federal interests had priority.

"So Cam isn't needed there, is she?" Blair persisted. God, why couldn't Cam just let someone else do this part? She couldn't imagine the horror of sifting through the debris that had claimed the life of someone she knew.

Stark stared at her, incredulous. "There's no way she's going to walk away until there's nothing else to find. Not when you were the target."

Stark was so certain, and there was an unmistakable edge of pride in her tone. Blair began to see why it was so hard for Cam to relinquish her position on the team. She was so clearly the leader.

"It could be a long time before they're done, then, couldn't it?"

Stark regarded her seriously for a moment, then smiled quickly. "If she said she'll be here, Ms. Powell, you can count on it."

*

She wasn't sleeping, just lying quietly in the dark. The soft tap on the door brought her upright, her heart pounding and her pulse racing. She glanced at the red digits on the bedside clock. Three twenty-two a.m.

"Yes," she called.

"Ms. Powell, it's-"

"Come in," she said urgently, fumbling on the bed for the terrycloth robe someone had considerately thought to stock in the bathroom. She was tightening the sashes on the garment when the door opened softly and then closed again. She hadn't turned on the bedside lamp yet, but the glow from the security lights cleverly hidden in the nearby trees was enough to illuminate Cam's unmistakable form.

"Are you hurt?" Blair asked immediately.

"No," Cam responded, her voice raspy.

They were six feet apart, each of them leaning forward slightly, and the silence hung heavily between them.

"Are you?" Cam whispered finally.

"No."

Cam took one step forward, hesitated, and then another. When she spoke, her tone held none of its usual reserve. Softly she asked, "Would you mind very much if I touched you - just to be sure?"

Something that had lain cold and frightened in Blair's heart began to warm. She trembled faintly with the kind of anticipation she barely remembered, from a time before she had learned to expect disappointment from a lover's promise. "No, I wouldn't mind that at all."

Blair took one step to meet her, and then Cam's arms closed very gently around her. Blair scarcely dared breathe, afraid that she might suddenly awaken and find it all a dream. Awaken and discover herself alone in the dark yet again, waiting for a woman to come and touch her. Waiting for a lover's touch to set her free. She held very still and willed the moment not to end.

Cam sighed, contenting herself with absorbing the warmth of Blair's body. As she held her, Blair's energy began to penetrate the numbness. She still hurt - everywhere. But being close to Blair - feeling her heart beat, listening to her quiet breathing, leaning on her strength - being with her, was soothing the edges of her pain.

Eventually Blair ran her hands up and down Cam's back slowly, tentatively, assuring herself that she was real. When she lifted her arms to encircle Cam's shoulders, pressing closer to her, Cam gasped sharply.

"You are hurt!" Blair exclaimed.

"It's nothing," Cam murmured, resting her cheek against Blair's hair and closing her eyes. God, it was so good just to be near her. She hadn't realized how tired she was. There'd been so much to do. They'd had to cordon off the park in the immediate vicinity of Sheep Meadow, an impossible task in itself, and then there was the evidence collection, and the interviews. And she'd had to call Jeremy Finch's sister in Omaha. And then report on a secure line to DC and brief the deputy Security advisor and her own chief, assuring them that there was no imminent threat to Blair. And then make decisions about where to move her, how deeply to seclude her. Goddamned Doyle arguing with her every step of the way. And every minute wondering if Blair was hurt, even though Stark had reported no injury. And worrying that Blair might still be in danger or simply just frightened, and alone. Twelve hours apart from her had felt like a year. She tightened her hold on Blair and gasped again at the sudden surge of pain down her arm.

"Tell me," Blair whispered.

"Just a few burns," Cam answered, nearly asleep on her feet. It really didn't hurt so very much just at that moment. She lifted her uninjured hand to stroke Blair's face. "You're sure you're all right?"

"I am now," Blair responded softly. She could feel Cam shaking, and as much as she didn't want to let her go, she knew she needed to. "Cam, you need to lie down."

"Let me just stand here a minute," Cam replied, her voice eerily flat and her words forced and slow. "I'll be fine if I just don't move for a minute. Doesn't really hurt if I don't move. Just a little tired is all."

"I know," Blair said. She began to move them both toward the bed, one careful step at a time. It worried her that Cam followed without protest. That wasn't like her. This wasn't just fatigue. "Cam?"

"Hmm?" Cam asked dimly, trying to remember what she needed to do next. "Stark. Stark's report. Need that."

"Did they give you anything, for the pain?"

Cam felt her legs hit something unyielding and she sat down. Bed. "No. I told them no. I have to talk - to - Mac."

"Are you in pain now?" Blair asked, guiding her back against the pillows.

"Not so much, really," Cam muttered. There was the strangest tingling in her right hand. Then, she was aware of Blair lifting her legs onto the mattress, removing her shoes. "I shouldn't be in here," she remarked suddenly, as if just realizing where she was.

"You're safe for the moment," Blair said gently, staring at the gauze bandage wrapped around Cam's hand and arm. She hadn't seen that before. She swallowed around the lump in her throat and stroked Cam's cheek lightly. "I don't think you're in any condition to break any rules tonight."

"This is definitely against regulations," Cam remarked drowsily, reaching for Blair's hand but only managing to brush her fingers over Blair's palm.

"Yes," Blair whispered, leaning down to kiss her very softly on the mouth. "I know that, Commander."

Then Blair pulled the covers over the sleeping woman, and quietly left the room.

Chapter twenty-one

Blair pulled the bedroom door closed behind her and came face-to-face with John Fielding, who was standing in the hallway three feet from the room. She looked at him questioningly, and he said quietly, "Mac would like to speak to the Commander."

"She's asleep. Not now."

If he was surprised by her response, he gave no sign of it. He merely nodded and walked to the far end of the hall, taking a position where he could see out the window as well as back along the hallway, past the closed door of Blair's room, and into the rest of the house.

In the living room Blair immediately noted an unfamiliar man standing next to the front door in the place generally occupied by Stark. Savard was on the couch, leaning back with her eyes closed. As Blair approached, Savard opened her eyes. She looked worn but her smile was still electric.

"Couldn't sleep?" Savard asked, surprised to see her. It hadn't escaped her notice that when Cameron Roberts walked through the door the first person she asked for was Blair Powell. After issuing a few curt orders, Roberts had disappeared down the hallway to Blair's room. Savard didn't know exactly what she thought might happen next, but she hadn't expected to see Blair again so soon. "Anything I can get you?"

Ignoring the question, Blair said quietly, "You should go to bed, Agent Savard. Even the FBI can't require that you work twenty-four hour shifts."

"I was just thinking about that," Savard admitted with a faint smile. "I thought I'd wait until Grant came back from the hospital. She took Stark to be checked out about half an hour ago. I just wanted to -- hear how she was."

"How did she seem?" Blair heard the edge of worry in Savard's voice.

Renee laughed. "Cranky. Fussing about leaving her post. She wouldn't have gone if the Commander hadn't ordered her to either be examined or be relieved." She smiled, a smile soft with feeling. "Stark's a regular Boy Scout."

Blair recognized the undercurrent of affection in her voice. Interesting. "Where's Mac?"

Savard indicated the room opposite them. "The dining room is apparently our new command center. I think he's waiting for the Commander in there."

"Then he'll have to wait," Blair said flatly. "She's exhausted."

Savard studied her, curious. There was a surprisingly proprietary tone in her voice. The two women's eyes met in a moment of silent understanding.

"Right, then." Savard moved as if to get up. "I'll go tell him."

Blair stopped her with a raised hand. "Never mind. I'll tell him myself."

*

Mac looked up from the notebook computer he was using as Blair Powell walked into the room. He was relieved to see that other than a weariness she couldn't quite disguise she looked thankfully uninjured. He couldn't even think about what might have happened if she had been fifteen feet closer to the vehicle when it exploded. He started to stand, and Blair said quickly, "For god's sake, Mac, sit down. "

"How are you, Ms. Powell?" he asked politely.

Blair laughed grimly. "I have no idea how to answer that question, Mac," she said with utter honesty. "Other than the fact that I feel like I've been dropped into the middle of some awful B-movie, I'm basically fine."

He smiled sympathetically. "It's been a hell of a day. And tomorrow will be hectic, too." He moved some file folders off the chair next to him. "You're welcome to sit down. The Commander will want to fill you in herself, I'm sure."

"In the morning, Mac," Blair said quietly.

He stared, surprised and clearly confused. "I'm sorry?"

"Have you looked at her, Mac?" Blair asked, unable to keep the irritation from her voice. What was wrong with these people? "She's falling down on her feet, and she's hurt. She's asleep right now and no one is going to wake her up."

This time, Mac's incredulous expression was followed very quickly by an unmistakable look of respect. He nodded. "Of course. There's nothing that won't keep a few hours."

"She couldn't tell me very much," Blair sighed, finally sitting down on the straight-backed dining room chair across from Mac. "Just how badly is she hurt?"

Mac looked away, uncomfortable talking about something that he knew Cam wouldn't want discussed. Her. He'd rather Blair asked him to reveal top secrets.

For a few seconds, Blair thought he wouldn't answer. "Mac?"

Then he met her gaze and responded quietly, "As far as I can gather, she has some moderately severe burns on her right arm, shoulder, and neck. A State Trooper who was near the blast site grabbed her and dragged her away from the car before she could be more seriously injured."

He wasn't about to tell her how damn scared he'd been watching helplessly from the van. First he had seen Jeremy's car burst into flames and people being thrown to the ground for fifty feet around. When he had looked to the spot where he had last seen Blair's group approaching, all he could see was a cloud of smoke. For a minute he had been paralyzed with the fear that they were all dead. Fortunately, Grant was cool in a crisis and she had already started the backup car and was racing toward Egret's last known location.

Almost the instant the air had begun to clear, he had seen the Commander running straight into the raging inferno as if she didn't even notice the fire. Then Stark's voice had clamored in his ear that Egret was secure and while he was frantically trying to clear the lines of communication and direct the evacuation, he had seen a burly State Trooper dive into the flames and tackle Cameron Roberts. While Grant sped from the scene, the trooper had dragged the Commander away from the car. Mac had an eerie sensation that if that officer hadn't grabbed her, she might not have moved.

He took a steadying breath, banishing that disquieting image, and said, "It took me the better part of two hours to get her to let the EMTs near her. But they checked her out and cleared her. They said she'll be okay."

"Was anyone other than Agent Finch seriously injured?" Blair asked quietly. "I had a friend with me. Dr. Coleman?"

"I don't have the figures yet," Mac said solemnly. "There were a number of bystanders with bumps and bruises and assorted fractures, but as far as I know, Jeremy was the only casualty."

Blair heard the slight waver in his voice and realized that Mac had lost a friend as well as a colleague that day. "I'm so sorry."

Mac nodded mutely. There really wasn't anything to say, especially to Blair Powell. He supposed he shouldn't even be briefing her, but over the six months that he had served as the head of her security team, he had gotten to know her better then he might have otherwise. He didn't presume to think that they were friends, but he understood her isolation a little bit better now. It wasn't right to keep her in the dark, especially when the events so clearly involved her.

"You should get some rest, Ms. Powell," he said. "It's relatively quiet now, but I doubt that it will be tomorrow when the FBI shows up in force."

Blair realized she was exhausted. She had been running on pure adrenaline for hours, and now that Cam had arrived and she had finally seen her, she could allow her fatigue to surface. What she really wanted to do was go back to her room and stretch out on the bed next to Cam. She supposed that wasn't a very good idea, considering that the house was filled with Secret Service agents, not to mention the FBI. If she returned to her bedroom, they were not likely to be able to ignore the fact that she was sleeping with Cameron Roberts. She almost smiled at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

"I'd say that's good advice, Mac, and you should probably take it as well."

"I think I will," he said with a smile. As Blair rose, he added, "This is a very large house, and other than this room, the living room, and the kitchen, all the other rooms are bedrooms."

She studied him thoughtfully, but she couldn't read anything in his clear blue eyes. "Thank you, Mac. I think I'll go find an empty one."

He watched her leave the room, thinking once more how glad he was that he did not carry the ultimate responsibility for safeguarding her life.

Chapter twenty-two

At just past seven the next morning, Blair walked into the small galley-style kitchen. Cam was in the process of pouring a cup of coffee, juggling the pot somewhat awkwardly with her left hand. She was wearing blue jeans that were an inch too long, a loose fitting pale blue button-down collar shirt that looked suspiciously like police issue, and running shoes. The shoes, at least, were hers. Remarkably, when she glanced at Blair and smiled, her eyes looked clear and rested.

"How in the hell do you do that," Blair grumbled, stumbling in the direction of the coffee cup Cam held out to her.

The corner of Cam's mouth lifted again in an irritatingly knowing grin. "Do what?"

"Look so damn good after no sleep?"

Cam thought Blair looked just fine in her gray sweatpants and navy blue T-shirt, although both were a little too large for her. She was happy to see that Blair's primary mood appeared to be grumpy, rather than frightened. She knew from experience that the fear must be there somewhere, and that eventually it would surface, but for now, they could let it rest. "I don't need very much sleep."

Ignoring her, Blair leaned against the counter and gratefully sipped the steaming brew. After the first few scalding swallows she asked, "What happened to your own clothes?"

Cam hesitated for a second, then said lightly, "I had to throw them out. I borrowed these from the trunk of an NYPD patrol car. The officer assured me they were clean."

Blair didn't smile; she was staring at the white gauze wrapped around the palm of Cam's right hand and disappearing under the unbuttoned sleeve of her blue shirt. Cam seemed fine now, but Blair remembered her exhaustion and pain of just a few hours before. "How bad is that?"

Cam shrugged and started to speak, but Blair interrupted impatiently. "And don't say 'it's nothing' one more time or I swear to God I'll forget that you're sore and take you down right here." As she spoke, she lifted a hand and turned back the unbuttoned collar of Cam's shirt, drawing a sharp breath when she saw the angry swatch of blistered skin that extended along the lower side of Cam's neck onto her shoulder. "Jesus, Cam."

Cam set her coffee down and met Blair's eyes. "It's been looked at," she assured her quietly. "It's just superficial - nothing too serious. It should be a lot better in a few days."

"What were you thinking?" Blair demanded. She was rapidly accumulating memories of Cam in danger, or hurt, or literally dying, and the images didn't get any easier to take with reviewing. Her fear fueled her anger, and she added sharply, "Damn it, don't you care if you get hurt? Don't you think I care?"

Cam looked away. It had happened so quickly, and then, after, there had been so much to do - so many things to check and organize and confirm. She had put it from her mind. "I wasn't thinking," she said softly.

Blair stared at her, surprised. "You're always thinking. What happened this time?"

"I - " Cam stopped, suddenly uncomfortable. Doyle was likely to show up at any minute, and she needed to brief the team and discuss strategy before that. "We should talk about this some other time."

"There will never be 'some other time'," Blair said flatly. "Or a better time. Not for us, Cam. What happened?"

"It was the engine stuttering that reminded me," Cam murmured.

An uneasy feeling fluttered through Blair's chest. Cam looked pale. Blair stepped a little closer, resting her fingers lightly on the top of Cam's hand where it lay along the edge of the counter. "Go ahead. It's okay."

Cam drew her mind from the past and focused on Blair's face, smiling gratefully, her eyes clearing. Blair's touch steadied her, anchored her in the present. "I was late for school and my father said I could ride with him. He went out ahead of me to tell the driver about the change in plans. When I came down the steps I could hear the car engine coughing like it was going to stall." She hesitated, running a hand quickly over her face. She was sweating, the cold sweat of fear and dark memories.

Blair forced herself to breathe, but it was difficult around the choking dread as she began to understand what Cam was saying. They had never talked about it. They had had so little time to talk at all. Not about what mattered, she realized. "You were right there?"

Cam nodded. "About twenty feet away, I guess, when the bomb exploded. It knocked me down." She was clutching the counter and made a conscious effort to relax her grip, to keep her voice even. "When I got up the flames were so high, and it was so hot - and I, I couldn't get close." She looked at Blair, her eyes shadowed with old misery. "I was too scared."

"Cam," Blair whispered, lifting her hand to caress her cheek. "Even if you could have - you know -"

"I know," Cam said. "But I should have tried."

"You were a child then," Blair argued gently. "And yesterday you weren't, and you still couldn't have saved either of them."

Cam closed her eyes briefly and nodded. "I know."

Blair shook her head in frustration and sympathy, hearing the guilt still heavy in Cam's voice. Knowing and believing were two very different things. She was torn between wanting to shake her and wanting desperately to hold her. "Do you have any idea how crazy you make me when you do things like you did yesterday?"

"Some," Cam admitted softly, turning her palm so that their fingers met briefly.

"That's progress, I suppose," Blair sighed.

"I don't want you to worry about me," Cam began before Blair cut her off.

"Please! Don't push your luck, Roberts," Blair snapped. She withdrew her hand and pointed to Cam's arm. "What about changing the bandages?"

"I'll have Stark or Savard give me a hand," Cam said with a shrug. "I was just about to go shower. I still smell like smoke."

"The hell you will," Blair said sharply. "I might just trust Stark, but I have no intention of letting Renee Savard put her hands on you for any reason, under any circumstances."

"I can assure you, Ms. Powell, you have no need to worry," Cam said, her voice dark and intimate. Don't you know that?

Somehow as they had talked, they had moved slowly closer, until now Blair's hand rested on Cam's hip, and Cam's fingers brushed softly up and down Blair's arm. There was space between them, but those few inches shimmered with heat.

"Thank you for coming to my room last night," Blair said quietly, her lips inches from Cam's. "I don't think I could have stood waiting much longer."

"I'm sorry it took me so long," Cam answered, her eyes unable to leave Blair's. She shuddered faintly as Blair moved near enough for their thighs to touch. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Blair," Cam said, her voice heavy and thick. "I never meant that. I don't know any other way to do this."

"You really piss me off, Commander," Blair murmured, moving her hand upward to rest her palm against Cam's chest. "And I'm not saying I like any of this, and I don't intend to change my mind any time soon. But still -- " She slipped her hand under the collar and caressed the uninjured side of Cam's neck. "You make me crazy."

Cam answered the call in Blair's deep blue eyes and lowered her head to kiss her.

"Good morning, Commander, Ms. Powell," Renee Savard said smoothly as she walked through the door and headed directly toward the coffee machine. She'd always thought that the best way to handle an awkward moment was to move through it. And since her presence would have been obvious in another second, retreat was not possible.

Cam straightened and stepped back from Blair. "Agent Savard," she said easily.

Blair watched Cam's transition, more in fascination than anger. A second before, Cam's body had been about to meld with hers. She had felt the heat and the urgency rippling under her fingers. Now, Cam stood coolly, not a hint of disturbance or discomfort on her face. Blair had no doubt that Renee Savard suspected what had been about to happen between them, but suspecting and observing were two different things. Somehow, she did not think it would matter to Savard, but she had to admit that if it had been Patrick Doyle who had walked through that doorway, it would have been difficult for both Cam and herself. It was an acknowledgment she had been forced to make many times in her life. She had been forced to be cautious, and sometimes she had been forced to hide. She hated it; she had never accepted it; but there had been more than her personal integrity at stake. She had long recognized that she would need a very good reason to fight. Watching Cam slip effortlessly into her professional persona, she thought that perhaps she might finally have found that reason.

Chapter twenty-three

"We'll be briefing at 0900, Agent Savard," Cam said calmly as Savard started out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee. Her voice was steady, but her autonomic nervous system was still responding to Blair's hands on her. She felt her own hands trembling and buried them in the pockets of her jeans.

"Yes, ma'am," Savard replied, looking back from the doorway. The Commander met her gaze directly, her gray eyes completely unreadable. It wasn't that hard to read Blair Powell's expression, however. She was still looking at Cameron Roberts like she wanted to swallow her whole. Savard figured if she hadn't walked in at such an indelicate moment, Blair might have been better able to hide her feelings. She usually was.

"Anything you need from me in advance, Commander?" Savard asked, withdrawing onto safer ground. She didn't imagine privacy was something either of these women had very much of, and it wasn't her job to infringe on what little they had.

"I don't suppose you have a report from the FBI field team on when I'll have their videotapes from the park, do you?"

For a moment, Savard looked away, embarrassed. She didn't want to admit that she was out of the loop, and had been ever since she had told Doyle that she would be happy to work on the inside with Egret's security detail, but that she wouldn't pass him information outside of channels. He'd been angry, but he couldn't order her to do it. It was a messy situation, but she was still FBI, and she'd keep their dirty laundry private. She simply shook her head. "I've had no updates since arriving here, Commander."

Cam nodded, having expected nothing different. She knew Doyle would keep his intelligence reports from her as long as he could. "That's all then."

Savard left without another word, and Cam turned to Blair, a rueful smile on her face. Blair's eyes were still deep with desire and it took all of Cam's willpower not to touch her again. "I had better get to work. We should have some food supplies within the hour, and your clothes will be coming later today. I sent Grant back to the city this morning. I thought she would know what you needed."

"What about Stark?" Blair asked, unsuccessfully trying to ignore the lingering ache of arousal deep within her. Much more of this torture and she was going to lose her mind. "Is she all right?"

"She was cleared for duty, but I suspect she's downplaying her symptoms," Cam said quietly, watching Blair's fingers caress the side of her coffee mug. She has such sensitive fingers. She always manages to find just the right spot, and then she strokes it so --. Cam swallowed, pulled her eyes away, and added, "Since we won't be traveling for a few days, she may be okay."

Blair tore her gaze from Cam's mouth, which she had just been imagining on her skin, and asked sharply, "You expect this to be an extended stay then?"

Cam moved, leaning against the opposite counter, needing the distance from Blair in the narrow space so that she could concentrate. She was having trouble thinking about anything at the moment except the way Blair touched her when she was hungry. "I don't know yet. At the very least, another day. I'm hoping to have preliminary reports from the ATF bomb center in a few hours. I expect that the FBI profiler and the ATF Commander will be here sometime later today for a briefing. All the videotapes from our cameras and the FBI teams, if they cooperate, will be arriving here along with our computer equipment this afternoon."

"Why can't I go home?" Blair asked softly, thinking that there she would at least be able to touch her, just touch her, without someone walking in on them.

Cam heard her unhappiness and wanted to hold her. Just long enough to comfort. "Your apartment building is being checked this morning, just to be certain we don't have any breach in security there."

Blair listened, trying to absorb the magnitude of the investigation, realizing that this was not something that was going to disappear overnight. It was like a huge machine, already set in place and running, and there would be no stopping it. She was at the center of the hurricane, and all she could hope was that the eye of the storm would be large enough to allow her to breathe - and to steal a few moments with Cam.

"Tonight then?" Blair asked hopefully.

Cam shook her head. "We don't know enough yet. We assume that the car bomb was some kind of message from Loverboy, but it could just as easily be a terrorist attempt on your life or a warning to the government from some extremist group that wants recognition. It could be the first of a series of bombings that don't involve you personally at all. You're safe here, and until we gather intelligence from the CIA and the anti-terrorist divisions of the NSA and FBI, and get an analysis of the bomb and a few hundred other bits of information, you can't go home. For the next few days, I'm using this as our command center. I'd like you to remain here for at least that long."

Cam waited, knowing that what she was saying was probably more threatening to Blair than the physical attack on her life. This kind of focus would mean an even greater assault on her privacy and a more pervasive objectification of her life. There would be very little time, and almost no place, for her to live normally in the midst of such scrutiny.

"Do I have a choice?" Blair asked angrily, imagining being surrounded by strangers twenty-four hours a day. Not just in the background anymore, but literally in the same room with her.

"We could have a helicopter take you back to the White House where the White House guard would be responsible for your security."

Cam held her breath, knowing that in theory Blair should be perfectly safe inside the White House. Except that she knew damn well that Blair wouldn't stay inside the White House, and there was no one there that she trusted to guard her. And she'd go crazy if she thought that Blair was likely to slip away from her security detail and inadvertently place herself in danger. And she didn't think she could stand being separated from her now.

"Why can't you come back with me to DC?" Blair asked, risking disappointment, but needing so desperately just to be with her.

"I need to stay here, Blair," Cam added quietly, hating to say the words that she knew would hurt her. "At least until I'm sure that I'm getting all the information that I need. It's going to make a difference in the future. Sooner or later you'll be visible again." She didn't add that Blair would be vulnerable again then, too.

"Well," Blair commented dully, struggling to hide the ache of rejection, "better the enemy you know. I'll stay."

"Thank you," Cam said softly. "A few days, and I'll try to get you home again."

Blair looked at Cam, anger warring with desire. "I hope so, because I'm not sure how long I can stand this."

Cam couldn't bear seeing the pain in her eyes. She couldn't bear being the cause of it one more time. "Blair," she whispered, her voice husky with the need to soothe her, "I'd give anything in my power to make this different for you. I can't."

Blair stared at her, uncertain whether she wanted to scream or cry. "God, Cameron. You don't get it at all, do you?" She took one step closer, clenching her fists to keep her hands off her. She wanted her so much! "I don't want you to fix it. I want you to touch me."

Cam didn't have the strength to look into Blair's eyes and lie to her. She couldn't say no to her, because she couldn't tell her she didn't want her. Not again. She wavered slightly on her feet as she lost the battle with sense and reason.

"Come with me," Cam said hoarsely.

Chapter twenty-four

Blair hesitated for half a second, staring after Cam as she turned abruptly and walked away. Then she hastened to follow, catching up to her at the beginning of the hallway that led to the rear of the house where most of the bedrooms were situated.

"Fielding is down there," Blair said in an urgent whisper.

"I know that," Cam said curtly. "I posted him there last night."

She reached Blair's bedroom door and opened it, stepping to one side so Blair could enter, then followed her through and closed the door. When Blair turned, confusion in her eyes and a question on her lips, Cam reached out with her left hand and gathered the fabric of Blair's oversized T-shirt in her fist, pulling Blair roughly to her. She lowered her head and captured Blair's mouth, swallowing Blair's gasp of surprise with a kiss. She kept her hand twisted in the material, forcing Blair against her as she slowly walked them across the bedroom toward the open bathroom door.

Blair had no choice but to hold on. She raised one arm and wrapped it around Cam's uninjured shoulder, threading her fingers through the hair at Cam's neck. John Fielding, and the fact that the house was filled with federal agents and other assorted individuals, were completely forgotten. At that moment, she couldn't have cared less. All she was aware of was the heat pouring from Cameron's body and the demanding press of Cam's mouth on hers. Cam's kiss was anything but gentle, but even in her haste, Cam was careful not to hurt her.

They were five feet from the adjoining room when Cam relinquished Blair's mouth and moved her lips to Blair's neck, biting her hard enough to draw a startled cry.

"God, Cam," Blair exclaimed, struggling to keep her voice low. "If you leave a mark everyone out there will know."

"Shut up," Cam replied, quickly releasing the shirt and in the same motion, driving her hand beneath it until she found Blair's breast.

When Cam's fingers closed firmly on the taut nipple, Blair's legs began to quiver so unexpectedly that she stumbled. She pressed her face to Cam's shoulder, eyes squeezed tightly closed, struggling desperately to contain a moan. They were still staggering towards the bathroom, and she reached between them, trying to work the buttons open on Cam's jeans. Her hands shook so much she couldn't manage.

"I'm going crazy," Blair gasped against Cam's neck. "I'm so hot I can't stand it."

Cam pushed her up against the wall beside the open bathroom door. She dragged down the loose cotton sweatpants that were the last tangible barrier between them. As she bared Blair's thighs, she looked into her eyes and said, "I know."

Then, still staring into Blair's eyes, she slipped her hand between Blair's legs, gliding smoothly through the wet heat, entering her in one fluid motion. She held her breath, watching Blair's pupils dilate and her lids flutter nearly closed.

Blair caught her lower lip between her teeth, arching her hips with the sudden pleasure as Cam filled her. Her head thudded against the wall and her entire body shook. "More," she managed to gasp.

Cam straddled Blair's thigh, pressing herself, swollen and hard, against Blair's leg. She withdrew her fingers, added another, and entered her again, deeper this time. Their lips were a fraction of an inch apart, their gazes locked.

Blair spasmed repeatedly around Cam's fingers, clutching desperately at Cam's hips, trying to stay upright. "I'm coming," she whispered brokenly.

Cam leaned her forehead against Blair's, stroking almost completely out and then moving into her again, pushing deeper still with each thrust. "I know," she murmured. "I know."

Blair clung to her, shuddering as wave upon wave of sensation flooded her body. She buried her face against Cam's shoulder, trying to contain her cries, whimpering softly as the last contractions fluttered through her belly. "Don't let go," she gasped finally.

Cam was still inside her, and they were pressed tightly together, using the wall as support. Her breath heaved through her chest as she hovered on the brink of orgasm. "You -- neither."

Blair managed a tremulous laugh and finally succeeded in getting her fingers to work. She pulled open Cam's fly and pushed her hand inside Cam's jeans. Immediately, Cam jerked into her palm. "Oh God," Blair whispered. "You're so wet."

"Uh huh," Cam grunted, pressing harder against Blair's fingers. She couldn't think, couldn't see; all she knew was the ferocious pressure pounding between her legs and the desperate need to release it.

Blair felt Cam shiver and knew she was on the edge. Another time, she might have teased her, but it had been too long for both of them, and she wanted her to come. She wanted to feel her lose control and she wanted to hold her, and she wanted to have her, completely, for just a few moments. She worked her hand deeper inside Cam's jeans until she could cup all of her in her palm. Then, she brought her thumb slowly and deliberately along the length of Cam's clitoris, massaging her rhythmically.

Cam braced herself with both hands against the wall, her body bowed, her head down, gasping. Her thighs trembled as the blood seemed to halt in her veins and every muscle clenched. The next knowing stroke of Blair's fingers sparked the explosion, and her breath burst out on a low tortured groan. Dimly, she heard Blair moan softly, almost in exultation, but all she could do was struggle to stand as her bones melted before the onslaught of sensation.

"Oh, yeah," Cam finally murmured, sagging against Blair. Her head was still pounding.

Blair laughed faintly as the last ripples of Cam's orgasm pulsed against her fingers. She ran her free hand up and down Cam's back, soothing her. She didn't think anything had ever satisfied her as much as having Cameron in her arms, trembling and so unguarded.

"I wish I'd known sooner that all I had to do was ask," Blair remarked breathlessly.

Cam sighed and straightened up, leaning back to look into Blair's face. Their legs were still pressed together and just the sensation of Blair's skin against her own was exciting her again. She grinned, but her eyes were very serious. "You don't need to ask. I can't even be near you without wanting you."

Blair was aware of Cam's hips rocking persistently against her own, and she realized they weren't done yet. She started opening the buttons on Cam's borrowed shirt, asking quietly, "Is that a problem for you, Commander?"

Cam hooked her fingers under the edge of Blair's T-shirt and lifted it upward, pulling it off over her head. She tossed it somewhere behind them and brought both hands down to cup Blair's breasts. "Not at the moment," she muttered distractedly, her eyes fixed on the tight, pink nipples under her thumbs.

"Cam," Blair said urgently. "You're bleeding."

For the first time, Cam was aware of a burning discomfort along her right palm. The gauze wrapped around her hand was bright red with blood. "It's nothing," she said, dismissing it, as she lowered her lips toward Blair's breasts.

Blair caught Cam's chin with her fingers, halting her motion. "We need to look at it - now."

"Blair," Cam warned, her eyes dangerously dark, her expression impatient with need. "Later."

Blair pivoted slightly and slipped out from between Cam and the wall, grasping Cam's good hand in hers. She dragged Cam through the doorway into the bathroom.

"I want to look at this."

They faced each other in the small space, Blair completely nude, Cam naked from the waist up with her jeans open. Both of them were flushed and breathing heavily. The air around them shimmered with urgency as they stared at one another wordlessly.

Then Cam advanced on Blair, her expression determined. "I'm not waiting."

Blair sidestepped quickly and yanked the knobs on the shower to full on. She turned back just as Cam reached her. She hooked her thumbs over the waistband of Cam's jeans and pushed down. "Get out of these."

Cam stepped free of her jeans as Blair backed into the shower. Cam followed, her eyes riveted on Blair's. She reached for her, and Blair gently captured her injured hand between her own.

"Let me unwrap this," Blair said quietly as they stood together in the streaming water.

Momentarily defeated, Cam held out her right arm so that Blair could remove the bandages. She set her teeth as the water hit the cracked and crusted patches. The skin was blistered and raw and still oozed blood slowly.

"How does it feel?" Blair asked, hoping that her voice was steady. The burns looked terrible, and even though she knew they weren't serious, for one horrifying moment she imagined what might have happened if someone hadn't been nearby to drag Cam away from Jeremy Finch's car.

Cam turned slightly so that Blair could not see the injury. With her other hand she caressed the side of Blair's face and said softly, "It doesn't hurt."

"Why don't I believe you?" Blair murmured, wrapping one arm around Cam's waist.

"Because," Cam whispered softly, her lips moving gently against Blair's ear, "you don't trust the Secret Service, Ms. Powell."

Blair tipped her head back, offering Cam her neck. "That's because you keep secrets, Commander."

As Cam worked her way along Blair's jaw and down the column of her throat, Blair found Cam's uninjured hand and brought it to her breast. She gasped faintly at the swift sharp pressure of Cam's fingers on her nipple. She was still aroused and her clitoris twitched rapidly at the renewed stimulation.

Slowly, Cam knelt.

As Cam leaned forward to taste her, Blair braced herself with one hand against Cam's shoulder. Dimly, Cam heard her moan as she moved her mouth over her. Blair was still swollen and firm and as Cam drew her between her lips, she knew it would not be long. She tried to make it last, sucking gently, careful not to work her too quickly or too hard, but it didn't matter. Blair was too sensitive and too close and almost immediately, she began to come. With the first pulse of release, Cam pressed harder, pushing Blair rapidly to another peak. She would have kept going if Blair hadn't fisted a hand in her hair and pulled her head away.

"Stop," Blair gasped hoarsely. "I can't."

"You can."

Blair laughed, pulling Cam up next to her. She leaned into her, and wrapped her arms around Cam's waist. "You're right. I probably could, if I had a little more time and I didn't think that John Fielding was going to burst in here at any second to find out why I'm screaming."

"No one will come in," Cam said firmly. "They'll assume we're having a private briefing. It's perfectly normal under the circumstances."

Blair kissed the pulse at the base of Cam's neck. She wanted her again. She wanted to lie down with her and touch every part of her and taste her again and again. "There's nothing normal about any of these circumstances, Cameron. If letting you go now means that I'll be able to have you again, I'd rather stop."

Cam closed her eyes and held her tightly. "Will you believe me if I tell you there will be another time?"

"I'll try, because I have to believe it," Blair whispered.

Chapter twenty-five

"Your hair is wet," Blair commented as she watched Cam gathering her scattered clothing. She leaned against the bathroom door, wearing the terrycloth robe that she had donned the previous evening when Cam had appeared at her door. "If you leave my room and go to a briefing like that, you might as well wear a sign saying 'I slept with the First Daughter'."

Cam grinned as she buttoned the borrowed shirt. "It'll dry while I put on my own clothes. I've got a suitcase in the other room that Mac brought." She pulled on the jeans and smiled faintly. "Somehow I fell asleep last night before I got around to changing."

"That's because you were out on your feet," Blair remarked with a combination of irritation and concern. "Will you get someone to take care of those burns?"

Cam nodded. "I'll ask Stark. The EMTs left something for me to put on it." She crossed to her, and put her hands lightly on Blair's waist. "I'll take care of it, I promise."

"You'd better," Blair said, her voice husky. As much as she hated to, she added, "You should go, Cam."

Cam sighed, reluctant to leave her. "I'm going to be tied up all day with the briefings. Stark will see to anything that you need."

Blair smiled wryly. "As long as she doesn't make me play pinochle with her. That's where I draw the line."

"Understood," Cam said, lightly pressing her lips to Blair's forehead. She didn't dare do more, because she was afraid if she felt the softness of Blair's lips, she might not be able to stop with one kiss. For some reason, she couldn't seem to control herself the way she was used to. She couldn't seem to stop wanting her.

Finally, Cam stepped away and crossed to the door. She looked back, her hand on the doorknob, and said quietly, "By the way, Dr. Coleman is fine. She was shaken up a bit by the blast, and I think she might have ended up on the bottom of the pile when we all hit the ground, but she's all right."

Blair studied her silently for a moment, looking for some sign that there was a hidden message in Cam's words. She should have known there wouldn't be. Cameron Roberts did not play games. "Thank you. I was worried."

Cam nodded, and opened the door. "I thought you might be."

"Cam?" Blair said quickly.

Cam looked at her questioningly.

"You do know there's no one, don't you?"

"I'd hoped," Cam replied softly, and then she was gone.

*

Two hours later, Blair stood in the doorway of the makeshift command center and surveyed the people grouped around the long dining room table in the center of the room. Cam, attired now in a dark gray suit and silver silk shirt, sat at one end of the table while Patrick Doyle occupied the seat opposite her at the far end. Mac was to Cam's left and Stark, a bandage on her forehead and a very impressive bruise on the side of her face, was beside him. Across from them were a man and woman Blair did not recognize. Savard looked mildly uncomfortable situated between Stark and Doyle.

Patrick Doyle looked up and frowned. "Can I do something for you, Ms. Powell?" he said tersely.

Blair studied him silently for a moment, then walked around the table and pulled out a chair next to Cam. "I'd like to get some idea of what's happening," she said quietly.

Doyle cleared his throat and rearranged some of the papers in front of him. When he looked up at her, his gaze was wintry. "We've just started, and I think at this point anything I could tell you would be premature. I'll advise you of anything you need to know at a later date."

Silently, Blair turned to Cam. No one could keep her out of the briefing, although it wasn't routine for her to sit in on one. It was obvious that Patrick Doyle did not want her there, but it wasn't his opinion she cared about.

"We're just getting started," Cam said. She didn't even look in Doyle's direction, but instead, pointed to the redhead next to Blair. "Ms. Powell, this is Special Agent Lindsey Ryan, a profiler from the behavioral science division at Quantico. I've asked her here to give us an idea of what to expect from Loverboy in the future."

"I think we should discuss the crime scene evidence and find out what we have from the bomb," Doyle immediately countered. "We need is hard data, not theory."

Cam did stare the length of the table at him then, but responded evenly, "Everything is important. My primary objective is to anticipate the potential threat to Ms. Powell, and to that end, I'd like to have as much information about the perpetrator as we can get. However," she said, indicating the handsome, dark-skinned man next to Ryan, "Captain Lane is our liaison from the ATF bomb division and he'll fill us in shortly."

Doyle's color rose, and although it appeared that he wanted to object, it was difficult to argue that Blair's safety was not the main concern. It was also clear that he was irate at having been subtly outmaneuvered. He merely closed his jaws tightly and nodded once, curtly.

"If you would go ahead, please, Agent Ryan," Cam said quietly.

Lindsey Ryan sat forward slightly and began, "After the incident yesterday, I reviewed all the information available on the UNSUB beginning with the first contact. My specific intention was to track his behavior, looking for any kind of cyclical or repetitive pattern. I was hoping that I might identify some kind of trigger that could help us predict what he would do next. What we see," she continued, her voice low and steady, "is a fairly erratic temporal pattern marked by predictable sequential events. Namely, he attempts seduction, and when that is unsuccessful, he follows with aggressive retribution when his overtures are rejected."

"Does this explain why someone who is presumably obsessed with Ms. Powell would also want to harm her?" Mac asked, frown lines deepening between his brows.

Ryan nodded. "Initially, he left a written message delivered to Ms. Powell's door, suggesting that he was the most worthy recipient of her attentions. He also indicated underlying anger by suggesting that she was misguided in placing her affections with people who were 'unworthy'. In essence, he was offering himself as a suitor. Clearly, when this approach failed, his anger escalated and he made his first attempt on Ms. Powell's life. This is not inconsistent with his obsessive attraction, in that very often a rejected suitor resorts to aggression. It's the old case of 'If I can't have you, no one else can either'."

"Does the fact that he's changed his methods signify anything? First a sniper attack, and now a bomb?" Cam asked quietly. She did not look at Blair, but she was acutely aware of her arm resting only an inch from hers on the tabletop. It was difficult knowing that Blair was hearing herself being discussed by relative strangers. She wished she could spare her that. She knew, however, that that was neither feasible nor desirable. Blair had a right to know about the threat that involved her, and keeping her in the dark would only result in losing her cooperation. And if Blair didn't cooperate with them, she would be in even greater danger.

"I don't think so," Ryan said with certainty. "I don't think that he is attached to any particular form of violent expression, as some psychopaths appear to be. I think it's more likely that he chose a more dramatic method of expressing his displeasure because his tolerance for failure is decreasing. Nothing else he's tried has worked, so he's going to be sure that she takes him seriously now."

A hard fist of anxiety clenched in Cam's chest. "So are you saying we can expect an escalation in the violence?"

Ryan shrugged. "This latest action is a statement. He's reminding us that he has power, and that he's in control, and that he should not be ignored. Frankly, I'm surprised he hasn't made some attempt at personal contact before this."

"He has," Blair said quietly.

Cam stared at her, a muscle in her jaw clenching. It took all her effort not to raise her voice. "Has he approached you in some way?"

Blair hesitated briefly, then met Cam's penetrating gaze steadily. "Not exactly. He sent a message saying he wanted me to meet him."

Doyle rose halfway from his seat, barking out, "When did this happen? Why weren't we made aware of it? If this is some kind of attempt by the Secret Service to cut us out of the loop, I'll-"

"I didn't tell anyone," Blair interrupted him by saying.

He was left momentarily speechless as he slowly sat back into his seat.

"Why not?" Cam questioned softly.

"I didn't realize at the time that it was significant," Blair answered, her eyes shadowed with worry. "He'd been sending messages regularly, mostly e-mails and the - videos. You know that - I reported that. I thought it was just more of the same."

Cam's stomach turned as she recalled the explicit images that Blair had received, and the graphic messages describing in excruciating detail what this nameless, faceless man fantasized about her. "What was it this time?"

"It was just another message," Blair said, her voice trembling slightly. "At least that's what I thought. I just logged on and it came up on the screen. He said- he said he'd been waiting for me, and he couldn't wait any longer for me to make up my mind. He said he would have to do it for me."

Stark looked at Doyle accusingly. "I thought you had someone monitoring her servers? How did this message get through and we didn't know?"

"You're out of line, Agent," Doyle growled.

"She has a point. An important one," Cam stated. "Why didn't any of us know this?"

Savard looked the length of the table at Blair and asked, "When was this?"

"Ten days ago," Blair said quietly. She looked at Cam. "The day you came back."

Blair didn't need to say anything. Cam realized that part of the reason Blair hadn't informed anyone about the message was because she hadn't been thinking about the threat to her life. Her attention had been focused on Cam's sudden reassignment to the security detail.

Savard continued, "It could have been a virus implanted previously and activated by something as simple as a piece of code buried in an innocuous e-mail advertisement. Even though Ms. Powell's system has been swept, it doesn't mean he hasn't infiltrated something else more recently."

Blair looked at Lindsey Ryan, her face pale. "Did he kill Jeremy Finch because I ignored him? Is it my fault?"

"No," Cam said quickly.

"Commander Roberts is right," Ryan interjected. "You're not responsible for Agent Finch's death. The only one responsible for that is the individual who placed and triggered the bomb. There is no way you could've satisfied his demands, because he is not even aware of what actually drives him. Regardless of what you do or do not do, he will never be content."

Doyle took that moment to add contemptuously, "You are certainly not to blame. No one would have been able to plant a bomb if security measures had been adequate."

His criticism was clearly directed at Cam, but it was Mac who responded. "You son of a bitch," Mac exploded, rising from his chair.

"Mac," Cam said firmly, her voice carrying a clear command.

Mac remained half-standing, his hands braced on the table, his expression murderous as he glared at Doyle.

"Let's take a break," Cam said calmly, pushing back her chair. She stood but didn't move until everyone but she and Doyle had left the room.

"If you have something to say to me, Agent Doyle, say it now," she said, facing him squarely.

He shrugged, his expression smug. "You lost a man, Roberts, not me. I have no idea why you're still in command, but I wouldn't get too comfortable if I were you."

Cam waited until he had walked out before she sank slowly into her seat. She would have argued if he hadn't been right.

Chapter twenty-six

"Cam?" Blair said from the door of the dining room. "You don't believe that, do you?"

Cam had been staring blankly down at the table, and at the sound of Blair's voice, she straightened quickly, forcing a smile. "Eavesdropping on Federal business, Ms. Powell?"

Blair shook her head, refusing to be distracted by Cam's admittedly charming smile. Cam's automatic attempt to hide her feelings didn't mask the pain in her eyes. "I heard what Doyle just said, Cam," she said softly, crossing to stand beside the table. "He's wrong to blame you."

Cam sighed wearily. "No, he isn't. A man died under my command, Blair. That's my responsibility."

Blair's first instinct was to argue, because she couldn't bear to hear the anguish in Cam's voice. She understood Cam's feelings of accountability, even though rationally no one could be expected to anticipate every eventuality. It wouldn't matter to Cam, Blair knew. Not only was Cam trained to assume the blame, Blair knew that she was just made that way. It was one of the reasons she admired her, and, she admitted reluctantly to herself, it was also one of the reasons she loved her. Unfortunately, it was also one of the things that was keeping them apart.

"I talked to my father last night before you got here," Blair said quietly. She pulled out a chair and sat down on Cam's left, extending her hand on the tabletop until her fingers just touched the back of Cam's wrist. It wasn't enough, but it was all she could have at the moment. "He told me that he had every confidence in you, and that I should listen to you."

Cam couldn't help but grin. "Why do I think you ignored that last part?"

"Well," Blair laughed softly, "I don't always do everything he tells me." She stroked her fingers lightly over the top of Cam's hand and continued, "But I do agree with him that you are doing everything that can be done. And I'm so sorry for what happened to Agent Finch."

"So am I," Cam said softly, remembering the terrible silence on the end of the line when she informed Jeremy's family that he had been killed. Their stoic response and gracious thanks to her for calling them personally made it all the harder to bear. But that wasn't the worst of it. She looked at Blair, and there was naked torment in her eyes. "You could've been in that car, Blair. Another thirty seconds, and it would have been you."

"I wasn't," Blair whispered urgently, her fingers closing on Cam's arm. "Don't torture yourself."

"I don't know what I would have done," Cam whispered, trying hard not to think about the possibility.

"Don't do this," Blair insisted. "I'm all right, and as long as you're safe, I will be."

Cam smiled, Blair's presence, as always, banishing the nightmare images from her mind. "We seem to be the same situation then, Ms. Powell. Because as long as you're safe, I'm all right, too."

"Finally, we agree on something, Commander," Blair said softly.

For a moment, they simply rested with one another, their hands very lightly touching, but their connection much deeper than physical. Finally, Cam said reluctantly, "I need to finish up the briefing. Do you want to stay?"

"Will you fill me in later?" Blair asked.

"Yes."

"In that case, I think I've had enough of people and procedures for a while. Is there any rule against me going outside?"

"Not as long as you don't mind company," Cam said quietly. "And I'd prefer if you stayed on the grounds, at least for this afternoon."

"You know, I don't even know where we are."

"I'm sorry, I never thought to tell you," Cam apologized. "Croton-on Hudson," she added, naming a small, scenic community on the Hudson River.

Blair pushed her chair back and rose reluctantly. "I'll see you later, then, Commander."

Cam stood and watched her disappear into the other room, then squared her shoulders and followed her. Mac was waiting just outside the door. "Let's get this done, Mac," she said to him. "Bring everyone back in."

"Doyle is trying to make trouble for you," Mac seethed.

"Let him try," Cam said quietly. "We need to focus on Egret's safety, and I think he's got information we need. Let's use him."

Mac looked in the direction that Blair had gone, then asked in a low voice, "Are you going to tell her about the photograph?"

"Yes. She needs to know." She answered him because she liked and respected him. She didn't ask him if he approved, because she didn't require his approval. She also had a feeling that he did not agree, but then the decision wasn't up to him.

*

It was close to sundown when Cam finally finished the briefing and went to find Blair. She found her sitting on the side of a small dock on the edge of the river that ran along the rear of the property. Ellen Grant watched from under a small clump of trees twenty yards away. Otherwise, they were alone.

"Hello," Cam said as she eased down beside her.

Blair smiled softly. "Long meeting, Commander."

"Yes."

"Anything new?"

Cam sighed in frustration. "Not much yet. A lot of conflicting theories about the bomb, but not much hard data. It appears to have been a high order explosive, probably RDX, the current material of choice. Captain Lane says that the limited range of the blast indicates a small charge that could have been detonated with something as innocuous looking as a radio pager. We have no idea how or when it was placed, but the vehicle was serviced three days ago. Doyle has a team at the shop now - interviewing employees, tracking parts that might have been used - looking for anything. Something."

"But surely someone was watching the car while it was worked on?" Blair asked.

"Yes," Cam confirmed, "but Lane said it wouldn't take more than a second to slip something under the carriage with a magnet or even quickbond of some kind. It could have happened while the car was following us along the race route. Jeremy would have had to make multiple stops with people all around."

Blair shivered, but could find no words to express her horror.

"There's something else," Cam said quietly, handing her the small white rectangle she had been carrying in her pocket for hours.

"I don't understand," Blair said, staring at the photograph. It was an image of herself standing on the platform in Sheep Meadow, with Cam visible just behind her, clearly taken the previous day during her speech. Her eyes were riveted on the circled "x" inked in red over her chest. "If he targeted me while I was on the stage, why --?"

"Turn it over," Cam said gently.

Blair did, and read in chillingly familiar block print on the back, IT COULD HAVE BEEN YOU. She caught her breath, and her hand trembled. "This is what was in the envelope that Marcy was trying to give me, isn't it?

"Yes," Cam responded. "Agent Ryan believes that you were never the intended target yesterday. He didn't mean to kill you at all. He simply wanted to send you the message that he could have if he'd wanted to."

Blair stared at Cam, a horrible realization dawning upon her. "And the rifle shot outside my building? Was I the target then - or was it you all the time?"

Cam looked uncomfortable, but she wouldn't lie to her. "That's unclear. It's impossible to reconstruct the scene exactly, because we don't have adequate video documentation. I didn't realize there even was a reconstruction until this afternoon. The FBI had confiscated all of the tapes and none of us had ever seen them. You can't tell from the camera angle the precise sequence of events when the shot was fired. Even with digital remastering and time sequencing, it's unclear whether the trajectory line was toward you or me, because we were so close together, and there aren't good sightlines on the video. I just can't say for sure."

"Are you telling me you spent all afternoon watching a videotape of yourself being shot?" Blair asked incredulously.

"Well, not all afternoon," Cam said, trying to defuse the anger she heard brewing in Blair's voice. It hadn't been that difficult after she had seen it the first time and recognized how quickly everyone had responded, and how well protected Blair had actually been. It relieved a great deal of her anxiety about Blair's vulnerability.

Blair stood quickly, wrapping her arms around herself. Although the night air was still hot and humid, she was chilled. She tried but could not comprehend what it would take to sit there and watch something like that.

Cam stood and went to her side. "Blair, it's all right."

"No, it isn't," Blair snapped, unable to contain the storm of emotions buffeting her. "It most certainly is not all right. It's bad enough knowing that you might have been killed trying to protect me. It's worse thinking that you might have been killed just to get my attention."

She turned so suddenly in Cam's direction that their bodies touched briefly. Cam took a half step back, uncharacteristically startled, as Blair's fiery gaze locked onto hers.

"Now do you understand why I don't want you on my detail?" Blair demanded. "Can't you understand that I don't want to lose you?"

"Blair," Cam said, desperately wanting to reassure her. "We'll get him. I promise. We have thousands of feet of video from the park, and hundreds of still shots. We have Marcy Coleman's description of the person who handed her the envelope. Lindsey Ryan's profile is running through every database in the country right now. The ATF bomb squad is constructing a profile from the bomb remnants. Every hour that passes we have a better idea of how to find him."

"And until you do, you're in danger," Blair argued, her chest tight with panic. "You or Stark or Mac or Savard or someone whose name I don't even know might die."

Cam took her hand, uncaring that Grant would see them. "Every single one of us is well-trained and we're all aware of the danger. Nothing is going to happen."

"You can't know that."

"You're right, I can't," Cam said, her voice rising with a combination of frustration and sympathy. "But I don't intend to walk away. I know how to do this job, and I have more reason than anyone else to do it right." She clasped Blair's other hand and stared intently into her troubled blue eyes. "Damn it, Blair, I love you."

"If you did, Cameron, you'd leave me alone," Blair protested, pulling her hands free of Cam's grip. Then she turned and climbed hurriedly up the slope past Grant and disappeared into the house, leaving Cam staring after her.

Chapter twenty-seven

When Cam walked back into the house it was just after eight p.m., and Patrick Doyle was piling folders into a large battered briefcase, obviously preparing to leave. He glanced at her as she entered the living room.

"My team says that Egret's building is secure. I told her she could go home any time she's ready," he said casually.

"What part of the fact that you don't have any say in her security don't you understand, Doyle?" Cam said, for the first time not bothering to hide her irritation. She'd had a hell of an afternoon, and her recent exchange with Blair had left her nerves raw. "You don't have a say in where she goes or when she goes or how she gets there. You don't have anything at all to do with her movement or her security."

"Just trying to help you out," Doyle replied smoothly, feigning surprise. "Since you're down a man, I thought I'd give you a hand with her."

She moved a step closer to him, a dangerous glint in her dark eyes. "I don't need your help with her, Doyle. All I need is for you to keep me apprised of any intelligence regarding Loverboy. That's it. That's all. Is that too much for you to comprehend?"

Mac walked into the room just in time to hear Cam's last remark, and the edge in her voice surprised him. He had never seen her give even the slightest hint of losing control. Anyone who didn't know her probably wouldn't notice anything amiss now, but he saw that her hands were clenched tightly by her sides and there was something just a little dangerous in her eyes. Savard must have thought the same thing because she was watching both Doyle and the Commander carefully as she stepped cautiously nearer.

Doyle closed the clasp on his briefcase and reached for his suit jacket, which he had left lying over the back of a nearby chair. Almost as an afterthought, he added, "Everyone wants us to catch this guy." He paused and grinned at Cam, a taunting grin completely without humor. "But you know, it's hard to catch fish if they don't bite, and they almost never bite if there's nothing on the hook."

Cam moved so swiftly that Mac and Savard were completely taken off guard. She had her hands on Doyle's shirtfront before he had a chance to stop her. In the next instant, she had shoved him up against the wall, her fists twisted in the fabric of his shirt, pulling the collar tight across his throat. His usual ruddy complexion rapidly turned crimson.

When she spoke, her tone was low and lethal, but everyone in the room could hear her. "Blair Powell is not bait. She is not part of this, and she never will be. Don't suggest it; don't even think it. You don't go near her without clearance from me. You don't talk to her; you don't brief her; you don't so much as look at her."

Doyle's face was purple and he was gasping for air, but he outweighed Cam by seventy pounds, and he was a trained agent. He chopped down on her right forearm with both of his fists, and even if she hadn't been injured, he probably would have broken her grip. Her face went white as pain exploded through her arm, and she let go of him as she reflexively took a step backwards.

Doyle grabbed for her, but Savard caught his right arm and Mac stepped in front of Cam, effectively separating the two.

"You're out of control, Roberts," Doyle wheezed. "And we both know why, don't we?"

Cam tried to step around Mac to get at Doyle again, but she was having trouble staying on her feet. A wave of nausea followed fast behind the burning pain that streaked up her arm. She marshaled every ounce of strength she had and said very clearly, "Remember what I said. Stay away from her."

"Commander," Mac said calmly, "you appear to be bleeding. You should sit down."

"Come on, sir," Savard said quietly, wedging herself in front of Doyle and widening the distance between the two senior agents. "Everybody's on edge. Let's all cool off."

Doyle looked at her as if just now realizing that she was in the room. "Just remember whose side you're on, Agent Savard," he warned as he finally picked up his briefcase and headed toward the door. He glared at Cam, unconsciously rubbing his neck where the collar of his shirt had left a raw spot. "Your reputation won't protect you forever, Roberts. Heroes are quickly forgotten."

Cam didn't answer. She was having trouble getting enough air.

"Savard," Mac said urgently, his voice a harsh whisper. "Can you please get the Commander out of here and see to her arm?"

Savard glanced once more in her superior's direction, assuring herself that he really was leaving, and then turned toward the Secret Service agents. She gasped before she could stop herself when she saw the widening stain on Cameron Roberts' jacket. A rivulet of blood ran from under the end of her sleeve onto her hand and was in danger of dripping onto the floor.

"Right," she said, stepping quickly to Cam's side and putting one arm around her waist. "Come with me, Commander."

"I need to speak with Ms. Powell," Cam said, attempting to pull away. Her head was spinning and there were spots flickering across her visual field, but she could still think. And all she could think was that Doyle wanted to put Blair out there so Loverboy could have another try at her. She'd kill him for this. Her voice was oddly flat as she said, "She can't leave yet. I need Taylor's report. I want to see the FBI -- "

She stopped, dizzy and in real danger of vomiting. Savard tightened her grip as Cam swayed, and sent Mac a warning look.

"I'll see to that, Commander," Mac responded immediately. "Go on, Savard," he urged. He was afraid that Cam was about to pass out. He hated to see her in pain, and he knew that she'd be furious if any of the other agents saw her when she was physically compromised like this.

To his great relief, Cam let Savard lead her away. That crisis averted, he steeled himself for a meeting with Egret. Hopefully, she would not ask why he was briefing her instead of the Commander. He had never been very good at subterfuge.

*

Blair knocked softly, but she didn't wait for an answer. She pushed open the door to the bathroom in Cam's room and stepped into the small space. She'd heard the raised voices from behind the closed door of her room where she had been pacing and trying to calm down. Cam's revelation that Loverboy had been intentionally targeting her security detail had shaken her badly. It was more frightening than the threat to her own life. She felt responsible, and guilty, and trapped by circumstances and she wanted to pound something. It didn't help her mood in the least that all she could think of was Cameron Roberts declaring irritably that she loved her. Because those few words had rocked her more than anything else that had happened, and that really scared her. Just when she thought she'd go stir crazy, Mac had come in, looking vaguely uneasy and asking her to please postpone any plans she might have for leaving until the Commander could speak with her. But he wouldn't tell her why Cam was unavailable, so she had come to see for herself.

Savard was kneeling on the floor in front of Cam, who was seated on the closed toilet, her shirt off and her head back, eyes closed. Her face was beaded with sweat and her skin looked gray in the harsh fluorescent light.

Blair's stomach tightened. God, she hated this. "What happened?" she asked sharply, moving around Savard to see what the FBI agent was doing. "Mac said she was indisposed."

Indisposed. That was a pretty word for this horror.

Savard held a gauze pad over a long, gaping laceration in Cam's forearm that was steadily oozing dark blood. The surrounding burn was blistered and weeping and her entire arm was swollen to twice its normal size. "She tore open a bit of the burn here. The bleeding's almost stopped."

Blair didn't need to see the discarded pile of soaked sponges to tell the wound had bled heavily. All she had to do was look at Cam. "She needs a hospital."

Cam opened her eyes and after a moment was able to focus on Blair's worried face. "I'm all right. Savard has it."

"Renee, either put her in a car and drive her, or I'll do it myself." Blair's hands were shaking and she knew her voice wasn't quite steady.

"Blair," Cam said softly, "if I check into a hospital I'm likely to be relieved, at least temporarily."

"I don't care," Blair stated more firmly as the initial shock of seeing Cam's injury began to wear off. "Mac is here. He can take care of things." She edged closer to Cam, stroking her fingers over Cam's forehead, brushing a damp lock of hair away from her eyes. "You're cold," she murmured, struggling with the fist of anxiety in her gut.

She looked around for something to cover her with, and finally focused on the fact that Cam was wearing only a thin sleeveless silk T-shirt. Her dress shirt was lying on the floor, rumpled and bloodstained. Blair's eyes narrowed as she regarded Savard leaning between Cam's outstretched legs, but she decided she probably didn't have to kill her just then.

"There's a blanket at the foot of the bed," Savard remarked without looking up, as she started to apply a topical antibiotic burn ointment to Cam's arm.

Blair was gone for a few seconds and when she returned, Cam was sitting up a little straighter, obviously working hard to hide her discomfort.

"That's not going to work, Roberts," Blair commented darkly, covering Cam's upper body with the blanket. "You still need to go to a hospital."

"Ma'am," Savard said quietly, efficiently wrapping a soft gauze bandage from Cam's palm to her biceps, "I'm certified as a physician's assistant as well as an EMT. They're not going to do anything for her at a hospital that I haven't already done."

Blair turned to her, an angry retort on her lips, but Renee Savard met her eyes calmly, a soothing certainty in her gaze.

"You're sure?" Blair asked quietly. She had moved back to Cam's side and without realizing it had rested her hand on the back of Cam's neck. She ran her fingers gently through the dark strands of hair, caressing her softly.

"Yes, ma'am, I am."

If Savard noticed Blair's actions, she gave no sign of it.

"I just need to lie down for an hour or so," Cam insisted, feeling better now that the pain was starting to abate.

Blair removed her hand and took a step away. "Will you see that she does, please," she asked Savard, her tone dull with resignation. She wanted to stay with her, and knew that she couldn't. Not here, not under these circumstances. It was agony to leave her.

Savard's voice was gentle with sympathy when she answered, "I will, Ms. Powell. You needn't worry."

Blair studied Renee Savard closely for a moment, then looked at Cam. "For once, Commander, let someone take care of you."

chapter twenty-eight

Mac was on the sofa, looking exhausted, when Savard returned to the room. He asked quietly, "Is she okay?"

Savard sank down on the couch next to him and blew out a deep breath. "She's got to be hurting like hell, but it's nothing that won't heal."

They regarded one another cautiously, each trying to judge the other's frame of mind. They were on opposite teams, in a manner of speaking, and had only been working together a few days. A few days that felt like a century.

Finally, Mac said, "Do you have any idea what that was all about?"

Savard chose her words carefully, aware of the fact that she was only on temporary loan to the Secret Service, and that ultimately she would have to survive within the hierarchy of the FBI. On the other hand, she would never defend someone like Patrick Doyle, even if it did mean risking her career. "Special Agent in Charge Doyle does not confide in me, Agent Phillips," she said quietly.

Mac waited.

"However," Savard continued, "speaking only as an observer, I would say the man has a hard-on for her."

Mac blinked, then grinned broadly. "Well then, he's going to wait a long time for a little relief."

"I'd say that's the truth," Savard said, grinning back. Then, she added seriously, "I don't know what's going on with him. At first I thought it was just bureau politics. But it seems like it's more than that, and I don't know him well enough to speculate."

Mac propped his feet up on the coffee table, suddenly aware of how very tired he was. "It's bad enough that we have to worry about Egret. Now we have to worry about Doyle and the Commander."

"I don't really think you have to worry about your commander, Mac," Savard responded. "She's a little torn up at the moment, but once she has her feet back under her, I'm sure she can handle him. She didn't get as far as she has by being pushed around by men who resented her position or her competence. I think we should all concentrate on catching Loverboy and let the Commander handle Doyle herself."

Mac sighed in agreement. "Sounds like a plan to me."

"Have you seen Stark?" Savard asked casually.

"The last time I saw her she was talking to Lindsey Ryan in the kitchen.

Savard raised an eyebrow and stood. "Was she now?"

Mac watched her walk away and wondered why he felt like he never really knew what was going on around him.

*

It was sometime after one a.m. when Cam stepped into the darkened hallway. She closed her door quietly behind her and turned, meeting the eyes of Renee Savard, who stood watch next to the window nearby. The hallway was in shadow, but there was enough light coming from the lamps in the living room to illuminate their faces. They studied one another silently. Then, very deliberately, Savard turned her back to Cam and looked out the window into the night. Cam crossed the few feet to the opposite side of the hall and opened the door to Blair Powell's bedroom.

She waited just inside the room for her eyes to adjust.

"Is this an official visit, Commander?" Blair said quietly from the darkness.

"No."

"Then I'll leave the lights off."

Cam made her way to the side of the bed and eased down on the edge, reaching for Blair's hand with her uninjured one. "I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to worry you quite so badly."

"How do you feel?"

"Better." She hesitated a beat, and then added, because she knew she had to tell her, "The damn thing hurts like hell, but I'm not dizzy and my stomach has settled. I'm okay."

"Did you come here to give me a personal medical report?" Blair asked sharply. Relieved of her worry, she remembered how angry she was. She sat up against the pillows, acutely aware of the fact that she was naked under the light sheet. "Because if that's why you're here, you can consider your duty done."

Cam was wearing only a thin sleeveless T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Blair had opened the windows, and the August air hung hot around them.

"No," Cam said softly, circling her thumb in the palm of Blair's hand. "I came because I couldn't sleep."

Blair's pulse began to hammer, but she steadfastly ignored it. This was one time she was not going to let her body rule her better judgment. "This isn't going to work, Cam," she said quietly.

A cold hand closed around Cam's heart, making it hard for her to breathe, but she answered calmly, "Why not?"

"You know why not. We've been all through this before. Because I can't stand caring about you and knowing that you might be hurt because of me. I can't do it. I don't want to risk feeling anything for you."

"If we were crossing the street," Cam said as if Blair had not just driven a knife into her depths, "and a car were about to hit me, would you push me out of the way even though you might be hurt yourself?"

"Yes," Blair said softly, "but the odds of that happening are almost zero."

"I know," Cam said, moving her hand to Blair's shoulder, running her fingertips lightly along the ridge of Blair's collarbone. "And the odds of me dying to save you are just as slim. We've just had a run of lousy luck."

Blair laughed harshly, trapping Cam's hand in hers to stop the undeniable excitement that the mere brush of her fingertips started inside. "Well, I'm not trusting anything to luck. Either you resign from my detail, or I don't want anything to do with you beyond our daily briefings."

Cam leaned forward and brushed her lips over the tip of Blair's shoulder. "No," she said very softly.

Blair ignored the swift stab of desire that raced through her. "I'm sorry?" she managed, her voice cold.

"No," Cam repeated, moving her mouth a fraction of an inch closer to the base of Blair's neck. She was leaning over her now, her breasts brushing lightly against Blair's bare arm. She felt her nipples stiffen beneath her T-shirt and knew that Blair could feel them too.

"It's not about sex," Blair said harshly, all too aware of the fire burning hotter every second. She was shaking lightly, her skin alive to Cam's touch.

Cam took Blair's hand and pressed it to her chest. Her heart pounded against Blair's palm.

"Neither is this," Cam whispered. "I've tried so hard not to want you. I've tried so hard not to need you. I can't help it. I can't stop it. We didn't choose this, either of us. I can't walk away from it. I can't walk away from loving you, and I can't walk away from doing what I know how to do to keep you safe. Please don't ask me to."

Blair turned her face away, struggling to resist the pull of Cam's words and the sweet seduction of her touch. "I don't want you to love me," she protested, her voice breaking.

Cam pressed her lips to the hollow of Blair's throat. "Yes," she said very softly as she reached under the sheet and gently cupped Blair's breast, "you do."

Blair moaned and arched her back, unable to control the surge of desire. "Damn you, Cameron." But the fine edge of longing was clear in her voice.

"Blair," Cam murmured, nudging the sheet aside. She moved her lips over Blair's chest, found her nipple, and pulled it carefully between her lips. She sucked it slowly as it grew hard and tight, then bit lightly, making Blair groan. She was hard too, and wet, and a pulse pounded demandingly between her thighs. She sat back, gasping with sudden urgency. "Help me get my clothes off."

Blair forced herself to focus through a haze of arousal and saw Cam struggling to pull the T-shirt off one-handed. "Here," she said quickly, sitting forward. "Let me do that."

She carefully worked the fabric down over the bandage on Cam's arm, then directed Cam to stand up, reaching for the ties on the sweatpants. When Cam kicked free of her clothes, Blair caught her uninjured hand and pulled Cam down beside her on the bed. She ran her hand along the length of Cam's body, over her abdomen, down her thigh and back up the inside of her leg.

Cam lifted her hips, breathing rapidly. "You're distracting me again."

Blair ran her fingertips through the thick wet heat between Cam's legs, her breath catching in her throat as her own body clenched in response. "I like distracting you," she murmured.

Cam made an effort to move on top of her and gasped sharply as she pushed up on her injured arm.

"What is it?" Blair asked quickly.

"Just my arm," Cam replied, attempting to direct Blair back onto the pillows with her other hand.

"Lie back, Cam," Blair said firmly. As she spoke, she took Cam's shoulders gently and pushed her down. "Let me."

Cam did not protest. She was still tingling from Blair's brief caress, and she was more than ready for more. "I actually enjoy being distracted," she admitted softly.

Blair laughed quietly and fit herself between Cam's legs, stopping briefly to press her cheek to Cam's breast and brush her lips over her nipple before kissing her way slowly down Cam's abdomen.

Cam closed her eyes with a sigh, a long, low sigh of surrender.

She lifted her hips as Blair's palms pressed against her thighs, opening her; and she arched her back, her muscles tightening, as Blair's lips closed on her; and she caught back a groan, trembling, as Blair's tongue tormented her. Blair's tender, knowing touch banished the pain and the fatigue and the worry.

"You are so good," Cam whispered faintly, her fingers trailing through Blair's hair. She was very close and desperate not to come. "So good."

Blair answered by massaging the spot that made Cam's muscles quiver and quickened her pace, drawing a sharp gasp from Cam. She felt Cam twitch under her tongue and knew she was there. Blair slipped an arm around her and pulled her close, knowing as she took her with her mouth and her hands and her heart, the simple truth of it.

There was no stopping, no turning back, for either of them. Not now. Not the next day. Not ever.

Chapter twenty-nine

It was almost dawn when Cam left Blair's room. Savard, who had not yet been replaced by someone from the day shift, looked toward Cam as she stepped into the hallway.

Cam walked over to her and stood by her side. Their eyes met as she asked, "Anything to report, Agent Savard?"

"No, ma'am. It was a very quiet night."

"Nothing out of the ordinary then?" Cam asked again. She had a feeling that if Renee Savard had a problem, she'd deal with it out in the open, face to face, and not in some report sent to DC in a sealed folder. And if Renee Savard had a problem with her, Cam wanted it out in the open. There was too much work to be done in the next few weeks that required her full attention, and she couldn't be worried about looking over her shoulder. Loverboy was not going to de-escalate. Not now. And all of them needed to be sharp and focused if they were going to stop him without losing another of their number. "Nothing you wish to discuss?"

"No problems that I am aware of," Savard affirmed. "No activity whatsoever, Commander."

Cam nodded and added, "Very well then. We'll brief at 0700, if you could inform your relief, please."

"Yes ma'am," Savard said and returned her gaze to the window. If someone was going to make trouble about Cameron Roberts and Blair Powell caring for one another, it wasn't going to be her.

Shortly after eight AM, Blair was seated at a small patio table on the rear deck of the house. She had pulled on jeans and a v-neck shirt and was starting on her second cup of coffee. Stark had come out a few moments earlier and had walked down onto the lawn to take up her post there. She was leaning against the corner of the deck, apparently surveying the expanse of lawn and the river beyond.

Blair glanced up as the sliding glass doors opened and Cameron walked out. It was the first time she had seen her since they had parted in the dim pre-dawn light. Blair smiled, enjoying the look of her in her fresh white shirt and tailored trousers. Cam looked rested and pain free, although Blair knew that she hadn't had much sleep. She also noticed the clean bandage on her hand and wondered fleetingly who had done that for her. It might have bothered her more if Cam hadn't been looking at her with such intensity that her skin tingled.

"Good morning, Commander," she called softly, her eyes warm with welcome.

Cam's smile was equally intimate as she approached, a cup of coffee in her left hand. She sat down across from her and said quietly, "Ms. Powell."

The words were as smooth as a caress, and Blair was instantly reminded of the last time they had touched, only hours before. It had been Cam's lips against her neck that had been smooth then, their arms around one another as they stood together by the door.

"I have to go," Cam whispered, her hands running lightly up and down Blair's back. She had pulled on her T-shirt and sweats. Blair was still naked. "I need to get back to work."

"I know."

"I'm sorry," Cam whispered.

"Don't be," Blair murmured, her arms around Cam's waist, her lips against her neck. She kissed her softly, then a little harder as the stirring began again in the pit of her stomach.

"No fair," Cam whispered.

"I know." Blair pulled away reluctantly, sighing softly. "Go on. Go before I don't let you go."

"Blair, I lo-"

Blair stopped her, gentle fingers against her lips. Cam looked at her, puzzled.

"Don't make any promises, Commander," Blair murmured. "Just tell me you will come back."

"Yes," Cam had whispered, just as she kissed her.

"I'm sorry?" Blair said, realizing that Cam had been speaking to her.

Cam watched Blair's eyes swim into focus, just as they did after they made love and she slowly returned to herself. It was the sexiest thing she had ever seen and she had to concentrate on her words to remember what she had been saying. "The FBI and my team have each independently cleared your building for reoccupancy.

Blair nodded. "I'd like to go home then."

"I know."

"What do you think?"

Cam shrugged and admitted reluctantly, "I think another day won't matter. I trust my team, and I don't believe that the situation will be any different unless we remain here indefinitely."

Blair smiled, remembering the last two days and the few moments she had been able to have alone with Cam. "There is something to be said for being locked up here with you."

Cam's eyes darkened and her grin was slow and easy. "There is indeed."

Blair's heart rate doubled just in response to the husky familiarity in Cam's voice. Unfortunately, the rest of her responded too, and as much as she enjoyed the sensation, she was all too aware that it might be some time before she could satisfy the pressure beginning to build inside.

She flushed as she watched Cam's gaze fall to her breasts. The width of the table separated them, but she felt the glance as if Cam's hands were on her. Her nipples stiffened under the thin cotton. "Don't do that," she said very quietly, her voice oddly breathy.

"What would that be, Ms. Powell?" Cam murmured, her fingers trembling with the desire to skim along the surface of the soft skin visible at the neck of Blair's shirt. I'm in big trouble.

"Don't look at me like that in public," Blair rejoined softly, "because in case you haven't noticed, self-control has never been my strong suit."

Cam lifted eyes hazy with longing to Blair's. The wanting was a hard ache in her gut. Her chest tight, she whispered, "Then I promise not to tease you - in public."

Blair shivered lightly, like an animal run too hard in the hot sun, and nodded, her voice gone, her blood burning. She had never expected this helplessness in the face of desire. If this was what loving Cameron would mean, she wasn't sure she would survive it.

"I must go," Cam said gently, because leaving her was the last thing she wanted at that moment.

"All right. For now," Blair murmured, following her with her eyes as she walked to the edge of the deck.

Cam stepped down beside Stark and said, "Tell the team we'll be leaving for the Aerie at 1300 hours."

Paula Stark, who appeared to be engrossed in the feeding habits of two fat robins on the lush green lawn, answered, "Yes, ma'am."

*

Stark heard the patio door open and close and glanced over her shoulder to ascertain that Blair Powell was still within visual range. Seeing that she was, she returned her gaze to the perimeter and her mind to the previous evening. She had been standing almost in this exact spot a little after sundown, when the patio door had slid open then and Renee Savard had walked down the stairs to her side.

"Everything quiet?" Savard asked, leaning one shoulder against the deck support.

"Very," Stark answered, glad for the company. There was nothing quite so long or quite so lonely as the night shift.

"Agent Ryan leave yet?" Savard questioned casually.

"About an hour ago. She left some files for the Commander to review, but she said that she can do more from Quantico where she has better access to the databanks."

"She seems to know what she's doing," Savard appraised honestly.

Stark shifted her weight and automatically slid her hands into her pockets in an unconscious gesture similar to Cameron Roberts. "She's very sharp. I'm glad that the Commander brought her up here today, because now I don't feel like I'm chasing some phantom. At least I have a picture of him in my mind."

Savard nodded in agreement. "Well, I'd certainly rather work with her than some of the hotheads from violent crimes we usually get stuck with on something like this."

Stark laughed in agreement. "Boys with guns."

"Actually, I've always been partial to girls with guns," Savard said with a soft smile.

Stark was grateful for the darkness, because her blush would have been impossible to hide. Suddenly, the night seemed much warmer, and she was acutely aware of the way Renee Savard's voice sounded in the night. Low and smooth and - sexy. She swallowed and managed to answer steadily, "So am I."

"Well, that's nice to know," Savard responded. "When things quiet down a little on this detail, we should see what else we might have in common."

"Uh - that would be a--good," Stark said, cursing herself for sounding like a dolt.

Savard smiled at her. "I don't think that Secret Service agents are supposed to be quite so sweet, Agent Stark. But on you it's very nice."

Stark was trying to think of a clever response when Savard brushed her fingers over the back of her hand and walked away.

"Stark?"

Stark jumped and turned quickly toward Blair, who was leaning on the railing looking down at her, a quizzical expression on her face.

"Ma'am?" Stark blushed again. Damn it.

"Would you let the Commander know that I'm ready to go home as soon as she gives the word?"

"Yes, ma'am. I will," Stark assured her, all business once more. According to what Lindsey Ryan had told them the day before, once they left the relative sanctuary of this house, any of them were targets.

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