Radclyffe - Word of Honor

“I’m on it.” A minute later, Savard added, “And, Commander? You know that request I made about more fieldwork? I’d like to reconsider.”

Cam laughed, knowing that Savard wouldn’t want to be anywhere other than where she was right now. In some ways, she felt the same. This was what she was trained for. This was what it meant to live her beliefs. And if there had only been herself to consider, she wouldn’t even be particularly worried. She did not fear death, although she had no desire to die. She wanted to live a long time and share every moment she possibly could with Blair. And above all else, she wanted to spare Blair the agony she knew Blair would feel if she did not return from a mission. She couldn’t imagine losing Blair—in fact, even contemplating it was more than she could tolerate. Without taking her eyes off the murky shadows around her, she said, “Forget changing your duty request, Savard. I’m afraid you just proved you’re combat ready.”

Savard’s quiet laughter pushed back the cold and made the dark just a bit less impenetrable.

“How are you doing?” Valerie asked, joining Diane where she stood before the fireplace. Although the room hadn’t been cold, she’d asked Diane to start a fire to chase away some of the gloom. Earlier, she’d ordered the blinds closed against the possibility of outside surveillance, which had added to the claustrophobic atmosphere in Blair’s loft. Although she trusted the bulletproof glass to stop most small weapons fire, she didn’t trust it to stop a surface-to-surface missile. And it was well past time to anticipate an attack from unexpected sources.

Diane took Valerie’s hand and leaned closer to her. “I feel guilty for being glad you’re here and not out there with Cam and Renee. Isn’t that horrible?”

“No,” Valerie whispered. She wanted to hold her. She wanted to kiss her. She also wanted to tell her that everything would be all right, but she didn’t. Lies came easily to her, because altering others’ perception of reality was what she was good at. So good that few people even knew who she was. That skill had suited her very well up until now—more than once the ability to make others believe a lie had saved her life. Now, what mattered most was that Diane never doubt she was telling the truth. “When I got the emergency evac signal, I ordered Stark’s team to secure not just Blair but everyone with her because I knew the team would keep you safe too. Not strictly protocol.” She brushed a quick kiss over Diane’s hand. “But I didn’t care. I need you to be safe.”

“Do you think they’re all right?” Diane asked.

“Everything I know tells me they’re in trouble, but able to maneuver. If Cameron has any opportunity at all to gain the upper hand, she will.”

“I know it’s going to be hours, maybe days before this is resolved, and you need to be here.” Diane caressed Valerie’s face fleetingly. “But after that, I need you to come to me. Promise me that you will.”

Valerie didn’t hesitate, because this was a truth she embraced without question. “I will. I love you.”

Dana sat beside Emory on the sofa where she’d started the day twelve hours earlier and watched Diane and Valerie talking across the room. Everything about their body language said they were lovers. Interesting, that Blair’s best friend was involved with someone who was obviously high up in the chain of command.

“Is she Homeland Security?” Dana asked Emory.

Emory sipped the coffee that someone had the brilliant insight to make in large quantities. She had a feeling they were all going to need it tonight. “Do you think if you ask the question that I refused to answer previously in a slightly different way, that I’ll answer?”

“It’s not the same question. Before it was open ended— Do you know who she is? ” Dana crossed her legs, balancing her ankle on her opposite knee. “ Is she homeland security? is a factual question. Background. Reference. It doesn’t call for disclosure of personal information.”

“Is that line of thinking supposed to make me more comfortable around you?” Emory shook her head. “Because it doesn’t. It just sounds sneaky.”

Dana listened for censure in Emory’s tone and relaxed a little when she didn’t hear it. Emory seemed to be searching for the ground rules, something that Dana ordinarily tried to keep as vague as possible. With Emory, she didn’t want to make a mistake. She had a feeling there would be no second chances, and considering that she hadn’t even had a first chance yet, she chose her words carefully. “Usually I have to get information from people who most often don’t want to give it. The leader of a terrorist cell living in a cave in the mountains in Afghanistan wants his message to be heard, but he doesn’t want me to know the truth. He wants me to broadcast his jihad, but he doesn’t want me to know how many men he has, or who funds him, or what he intends to blow up next.” For a second, she was back in a jeep in a barren wasteland in a world so brutal that morality was sacrificed on the altar of survival. She shivered, then smiled wryly. “I’m sorry. None of that has anything to do with you.”

“You’re wrong there.” Emory shifted so her knees were touching Dana’s leg. “If we’re going to be friends, I need to understand what’s important to you. And what isn’t.”

“Are we going to be friends?”

“I don’t know.” Emory shrugged, her expression almost sad. “My aversion to reporters isn’t entirely due to…personal…experiences. I’m not exactly as popular a target as someone like Blair, but my work is controversial enough that I tend to draw a crowd.”

“You’re hassled by the press a fair amount.”

“Yes. Relentlessly, sometimes. And unfortunately, not all the reporters take an open mind to what I’m doing.”

“Tissue regeneration, right?” Dana had reviewed some but certainly not all of the voluminous articles on Emory Constantine and her controversial work on stem cell research. It was a hot-button topic with every right-to-life group, extremist religious group, and anti– genetic engineering organization.

“Considering that it’s public knowledge, yes, that’s the general term for what I do.”

Dana leaned closer. Unfortunately, as soon as she did she caught Emory’s unique scent, which totally derailed her train of thought. Now was the time to take advantage of the high emotions everyone was experiencing. Barriers were down, control shaky. People said things, did things, admitted things they wouldn’t ordinarily if they weren’t so distracted and upset. Like blood in the water, a crisis signaled the time for a reporter to strike, and strike hard. Instead, she felt herself holding back. “I’d like to talk to you about your work sometime. What you think people should know about it. What you want others to understand.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Just consider it,” Dana said. “You know the only way you’ll get public support is by making them understand how research like yours will benefit them.”

“You make it sound as if people are only interested in their own welfare.”

“Usually,” Dana said flatly, “that’s the case.”

“You’re a cynic.”

“I prefer to call it realism.” As much as she hated to do it, especially considering what she and Emory had been discussing, Dana couldn’t ignore her instincts completely. Blair Powell was alone for the first time all afternoon, and Dana had a job to do. She stood up. “Excuse me.”

Emory followed her gaze. “Doesn’t it bother you, taking advantage of other people’s pain?”

“I’m sorry that’s the way you see it,” Dana said before she walked away. All the way across the room, she could feel Emory’s eyes on her, and it hurt to know she had disappointed her. Still, she kept going until she reached Blair, who sat with her back to the room at the counter dividing the living area from the kitchen. “Excuse me, Ms. Powell, may I sit down?”