Radclyffe - Code of Honor

Blair grinned. “I don’t think so. But you’d better keep your mind on your guard. I’m not feeling friendly.”

Cam laughed. “Well then, let’s see what you’ve got.”

*

Loren watched Skylar finish her breakfast in a nonchalant, unhurried fashion, while trying to work out the angles—what would be in it for Skylar to come out of the dark like this if she actually were Loren’s handler. Or, looking at the other side of the coin, who Skylar might be working for if her goal was to expose Loren as an undercover agent. Logic and Loren’s experience told her the second was a much more likely scenario—Skylar was lying. Maybe one of the middlemen Loren used to procure arms had gotten suspicious and run a background trace. Her cover was good, but if anyone searched far enough back, they’d discover she didn’t have much of a history before she went into the army. At least, no history that anyone could find. She had a family, though—parents and a younger brother. Her only demand when she’d accepted the offer of a nameless man who had appeared at her tent in the middle of the desert in the middle of the night offering her the opportunity to serve her country in a way, as he put it, “that would be far more significant than anything you might do if you stayed in the regular forces,” had been that her family would be untouchable. He had assured her that was possible if she was willing to leave her past behind—all of it. He’d given her a week to decide, and she hadn’t slept for most of it, wondering if there was some way to tell them what was happening without putting them at risk. The best she’d been able to do was ask them to trust her and to tell them she’d be in touch again when she could. She’d Skyped with her mother, and she could see her mother’s brilliant mathematical mind analyzing what she wasn’t saying, the way she always had. Her mother had looked at her for a long time in silence and finally said, “You’ve always made us proud. I know that will never change. Be careful. We’ll talk to you soon.”

Loren had talked to her father next, and he’d had that slightly befuddled look he got when he was concentrating on a new project and part of his mind was elsewhere, but at the very end, when she’d said good night, his focus had grown steady and clear. He’d smiled at her and said, “Good night is a good phrase. I never did like good-bye. I love you.”

A deep background check might tag her past as questionable, but she would rather she be vulnerable than them. Maybe Skylar was the bait someone had sent to try to convince her that she was actually talking to her handler. Then again, Skylar had her burn-phone number, and no one except her handler had that. She bought the phones herself and sent the number by text to a drop-box number after rerouting it around the world half a dozen times. Someone might possibly have killed her handler and taken her phone, but the chances of that… She ran the probabilities in her mind nearly as fast as her mother would have and came up with a pretty small number.

“Make a decision yet?” Skylar asked.

“I guess you forgot to add mind reader to your list of accomplishments.”

“Not really.” Skylar wiped her mouth on a paper napkin, balled it up, and slid it into her pocket. She tugged another paper napkin from the holder and methodically cleaned each utensil she’d used as well as the rim of the cup. Her movements were practiced and, unless someone was watching her very carefully, not at all obvious.

“Okay, that’s impressive.”

Skylar laughed shortly. “Never can be too careful.”

“I know.”

Leaning back, Skylar shrugged. “There’s not much else I can do to convince you. And, really, if you were an easy sell, I’d be worried. But we don’t have a lot of time. Things are heating up, and I’m not sure we have a great picture of exactly where all the pieces are going to fall. We need to get out in front of this.”

“There’s nothing going on with the Renegades that hasn’t been going on for the last couple of years. So you’re here because of the militia.”

Skylar’s left eyebrow rose an eighth of an inch. “Well, I see you’ve made a decision.”

She had, and it wasn’t because of any conclusion she’d come to through logic or analysis. Her gut told her Skylar was on the level, and her gut had kept her alive this long. If she was wrong, then she could hope that she’d figure it out before Skylar reported back to whoever had hired her. If she took Skylar out and made it look like an accident, she’d buy time before someone else came looking. She’d just have to keep Skylar close. “So? What’s going on with the militia?”

“That’s what we want to find out. Right now, all we’re hearing is a lot of chatter on the Internet and reports of high-level deals from various informants—details murky.” Skylar leaned forward. “We need to compare notes.”

Loren scanned the diner. No one was paying much attention to them, but she was never happy about staying in one place for too long. If they bumped into someone she knew, she wasn’t sure how she’d explain her early-morning breakfast with the babe who’d showed up out of nowhere the night before. She pulled her wallet from her back pocket and laid a twenty on the table. “Let’s go somewhere else to talk.”

“Where do you suggest?”

“My place.”

*

Cam landed hard on her back and tucked her chin to prevent her skull from slamming into the thin canvas mat. Blair dropped beside her and trapped her right arm in a figure-four hold before flipping her onto her stomach. The pressure in her shoulder increased as Blair ratcheted her arm higher between her shoulder blades. Cam tapped the mat and the pressure disappeared. She rolled over and Blair knelt on the mat, her hands relaxed on her thighs.

“Nice move,” Cam said.

“Your attention was wavering.” Blair grinned.

“No, it wasn’t. You were just a little faster that time.”

“I’ve been wanting to try that move.” Blair shrugged. “Had enough?”

They’d been at it for forty-five minutes. Cam’s T-shirt was soaked with sweat. Blair’s hair lay in dark golden strands along her neck, her face glowed, and her eyes gleamed bright and clear. “If you’re satisfied, I could do with a shower and a late breakfast.”

“Shower here or at home?” Blair asked.

Cam pushed herself up to a sitting position and flipped the wet hair off her forehead. She eyed Blair slowly. “I think home would be safer.”

Blair laughed and rose gracefully to her feet. “Something you have in mind?”

“Yeah. A move I’ve been wanting to try.”

Chapter Seven

Cam held the line while the operator at Quantico patched her through to Eddie Byrnes, an FBI special agent she’d worked with when she was in the investigative division. They’d run a few joint task forces together, chasing drug money being laundered through seemingly legal gambling operations in Atlantic City. Eddie had moved over into counterterrorism after the bombings, and she’d eventually been rerouted to Homeland Security. Counterterrorism covered a lot of potential threat areas, from monitoring terrorist activities overseas to ferreting out sleeper cells at home. Eddie would be working closely with teams monitoring subversive domestic groups, and he’d know who she ought to talk to. She just had to get the information from him without revealing exactly why she needed it.

“Byrnes,” a raspy voice said.

“Eddie, it’s Cam Roberts.”

“Cam, hey. I hear congratulations are in order.”

“Ah, thanks,” Cam said, still not used to how her private life had suddenly become public. When you married the president’s daughter, privacy became wishful thinking.