Radclyffe - Word of Honor

Cam shifted carefully and tightened her hold on the woman who slumbered in her arms. Blair had already been a target of a sniper’s bullet and the skillfully orchestrated full-on tactical assault that had nearly succeeded in assassinating her in her own home. Cam had been in charge of Blair’s security detail then, and she would never forgive herself for allowing the infiltration of her team by a traitor who nearly managed to gun down her lover. She’d been cleared of any dereliction of duty, but no report exonerating her from responsibility for the assault could assuage the knowledge that she had failed. She could not afford to fail again. None of them could.

“You’re not sleeping,” Blair said, smoothing her palm over Cam’s chest. “And you’re not relaxed. Your heart is pounding like you’re running a marathon.”

“That’s what instant replays of the good parts do to me,” Cam replied lightly.

“Cameron.”

Cam sighed. “Sorry. I don’t know why I haven’t figured out that you can read my mind.”

“I can’t read your mind. But I know what your body’s telling me. What are you worrying about?”

“Nothing.” Cam kissed Blair before she could protest. “I mean it. I was just thinking.”

“And…” Blair leaned up on an elbow and traced a finger along the edge of Cam’s jaw. “Don’t make me pull it out of you, Cam. That will only piss me off.”

“Being back here—it’s hard not to think about what happened.”

Blair caressed Cam’s face. “I suppose it would be foolish of me to think you’re ever going to forgive yourself.”

“It’s not about forgiveness,” Cam said. “I need to understand what went wrong, so it doesn’t happen again.”

“I get that part,” Blair said. “But I also know you’re blaming yourself.”

Cam laughed sharply. “Since I was in charge, that seems appropriate.”

“See? You’re starting to piss me off.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Cam ran her hands through Blair’s hair and cradled her face in her palms. She traced her thumbs over the arch of Blair’s cheekbones. “I love you. It doesn’t matter to me who your father is or what claim the world has on you. You’re the woman I love, and that means I need to keep you safe.”

“Oh, Cam.” Blair kissed her softly, then shook her head. “I love you for exactly the things about you that drive me crazy.”

Cam grinned. “I think that works in my favor.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Is it time for that shower?”

Blair bit Cam gently on the chin. “You think if you cloud my brain with sex I’ll forget that you’re beating yourself up over something that wasn’t your fault?”

“I know you won’t let me get away with feeling guilty for long.” Cam wrapped her arms around Blair and turned them over in bed until she was lying on top of her. “I know you love me and you want to protect me.”

“That seems silly, doesn’t it,” Blair said. “Me protecting you.”

“No, not at all.” Cam rested her forehead against Blair’s. “It makes me feel safe. The only place in the world I feel safe is with you.”

“Don’t make me cry, Cam.” Blair’s voice was hoarse and her hand trembled as she ran her fingers through Cam’s thick dark hair. “You’ve been hurt too—almost killed more than once. I can’t stop seeing every single bruise and scar, even when I close my eyes.”

“Blair, baby,” Cam said soothingly.

“No. Don’t tell me about facts and figures and how it’s a one in a million thing you’ll ever be hurt again.” Blair’s smile softened the harsh edge to her words. “I understand the risks. It’s a new world now, and I know there’s no looking back. I understand that we all have to do what we can to make it a safe one.”

Cam was quiet a long moment. “I was thinking one of the first things we need to do is get married.”

Blair laughed, some of the heaviness in her heart lifting. “Well, I’m glad that’s on your agenda, because we have a date to do just that in just about ten days.”

Diane Bleeker bolted upright in the center of the king-sized bed in her Upper East Side condo overlooking Central Park. The space beside her was empty, and with a gasp, she threw back the covers and swung her legs to the floor. She was nude except for a pale peach camisole, and she shivered although the apartment was warm. She grasped a navy silk robe from the bottom of the bed and pulled it on as she rushed down the darkened hall. She didn’t bother turning on lights. The early gray light filtering through the double glass doors from the living room balcony was enough for what she needed to see. Valerie.

Heart sinking, she surveyed the empty living room before yanking open the closet next to the front door. Valerie’s coat was there, but the last time Valerie had vanished in the middle of the night, she had taken nothing with her.

“Diane, I’m here.”

“Oh!” Diane clutched her robe closed and spun around. Valerie stepped inside from the balcony and closed the doors behind her. She wore an oversized cotton shirt closed with a few buttons between her breasts. Her legs were bare. “God, darling, you must be freezing.”

“I’m fine,” Valerie said.

When she gripped Diane’s shoulders carefully and kissed her, her hands were cold but her lips were invitingly warm. “I can’t seem to stop frightening you. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t frighten me.” Diane rubbed Valerie’s forearms, wishing that she could warm the cold place inside her. She’d never been more aware that love was not always enough, and she alternated between feeling angry and helpless. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Just restless.” Valerie forced a smile, which she expected Diane could see right through. In the four weeks since she had almost been killed by the same fanatical “patriot” who had tried to assassinate Blair, she’d been haunted not by the near-death experience, but by the fifteen years of her life she had blindly devoted to an organization she could no longer trust. Recruited into the Company right out of high school, she had assumed an identity that had been painstakingly created for her, and over the years she had been many people. So many people that she wasn’t certain there was anything of her left at all. When she awakened in the night from her never quite sleeping state to find Diane slumbering innocently beside her, she was tormented with the absolute certainty that she did not deserve this woman’s trust or her love. Cameron Roberts might have orchestrated both her death in an explosion in the Atlantic as well as her subsequent rebirth as an OHS agent, but that didn’t mean the Company hadn’t targeted her for elimination. Even someone as powerful as Cameron Roberts could not protect her from a shot in the dark on a deserted street or an ice pick slipped between her ribs in a crowded subway. In some part of her mind, she had always expected death to come that way, swiftly and unexpectedly. She didn’t fear her own death, but she was terrified that her mere presence in Diane’s life placed her in harm’s way.

“If you tell me what’s wrong, I can help you,” Diane said quietly.

Valerie caressed Diane’s cheek and kissed her again. “I’m not certain I should be here. It might be better if I stayed in a hotel for a while.”

“Because?”

“Someone may be looking for me.”

Diane drew a shaky breath. “Someone may be trying to kill you.”

“Diane,” Valerie said gently.

“There’s no point pretending otherwise. I know you might still be in danger.” Diane took Valerie’s hand. “Come back to bed.”

“I can’t. I need to get ready for the briefing.”

“I keep forgetting how ridiculously early you people start your day.” Diane forced a note of levity into her voice. “Then come into the kitchen while I make coffee.”