Radclyffe - Word of Honor

“Dana?”

“Yes. I’m talking to myself. Well, apparently if you heard me, I’m talking to both of us.”

Emory laughed. “Do you know that you don’t make a lot of sense sometimes?”

“We’re not even kissing, and I’m stupid and senseless just from looking at you.”

Slowly, Emory lowered the towel, and the look on her face changed from amusement to surprise. “If you didn’t look so flummoxed, I might not believe you. You don’t know what’s going on any more than I do, do you?”

“Not exactly.” Dana grinned. “I understand some of it. The part where we get naked…”

“That part I get.” Emory took a deep breath. “I came to ask what I should do with my luggage.”

“Leave it inside the front door. Someone will pick it up and bring it down to the cars.”

“I’ll be ready in a just a minute.”

Dana lifted her battered canvas travel bag. “I’ll wait for you in the living room.”

“Okay.” Emory turned away, then looked back. “I’m trying not to worry about the fact that I don’t understand what’s going on. And just for the record, I really like the way you look at me.”

And then she was gone, leaving Dana feeling totally out of her depth and, strangely, not caring.

“Hey! Look who’s here,” a small, wiry redhead exclaimed when Emory and Dana walked into Blair’s loft.

“Steph!” Emory hurried toward the woman. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

“Tanner decided to give me some time off.”

While Dana watched, the redhead—Steph—draped an arm around Emory’s waist way too casually, pulled her into a full body hug, and kissed her on the mouth. Dana narrowed her eyes, taking in the black fatigue pants, black T-shirt, and black boots. Jesus Christ, a mercenary. Well, these days they were called contract workers or security personnel or some other equally bland term, but they were mercenaries just the same. Where the hell did she come from? And what the hell was she doing pawing Emory? Dana checked the rest of the room. A power meeting was underway, by the looks of things.

Blair and Diane were in the sitting area, cups of coffee and a tray of bagels and muffins between them on the low table. Greg Wozinski sat on the arm of a chair near the door, drinking coffee and talking to Paula Stark, who was flanked by two burly jarheads dressed like the tough little number still fondling Emory. A gorgeous coffee-skinned woman with shoulder-length coppery gold hair stood next to the breakfast bar in conversation with Cameron Roberts. When the woman, whose body radiated tension, turned to survey Dana with an intense, flat gaze, Dana pegged her as federal. Not part of Blair Powell’s personal security detail—probably FBI. Valerie was missing, but then she often was— part of the OHS team, but still a loner. Dana’s skin prickled. She was getting the picture, a picture that said Cameron Roberts had put her OHS squad together by pulling from existing agencies, which made sense. Secret Service, FBI, civilian contractors—and Valerie? No Last Name Valerie had come from someplace deep and dark. Another story there.

As much as Dana wanted to stay and drag Steph away from Emory, she was working. She walked over to Blair. “I hear we’re heading for the mountains.”

Blair smiled. “At last.”

“Looks like you’ve picked up a lot of new people.”

“Just some friends who dropped by.” Blair pointed to the muffins. “Have something to eat.”

“Thanks.” Dana sat down, poured a cup of coffee, and balanced a blueberry muffin on a napkin on her knee. “Where did you come by the private guys?”

“They work for a good friend of ours,” Blair said. “You’ll meet her in Colorado. Tanner Whitley.”

“Why do I know the name?” Dana frowned, then checked out Steph, who was still in animated conversation with Emory and the other two guys in black. “Whitley as in the Whitley Corp?”

“That’s right.”

“I heard they might be helping out with personnel and technical support over in the desert,” Dana said casually.

Blair glanced at Diane, who raised her eyebrows as if to say she had no idea and if she did, she wouldn’t admit it. “Tanner has a lot of business interests I don’t know about.”

“Tanner Whitley. She’s the daughter, right? The one who inherited the whole Whitley empire?”

“That’s the one.”

“Really,” Dana said, her interest escalating. No wonder the president’s daughter appeared to have civilian contractors as part of her security team. Irregular, for sure. But it would explain why they were trusted. The real question was, why weren’t regular agents being used if Blair needed more security? Something had happened to cast doubt on the usual channels, and Dana was willing to bet it all went back to Boston, or maybe even before that. Whatever had gone down, Cameron Roberts and Paula Stark were distrustful of agents from inside the system. Jesus. What the hell was going on?

“So you all know each other?” Dana asked.

“Tanner and Diane and I have been friends forever,” Blair said.

Diane Bleeker laughed. “Not exactly forever, Blair darling, but close enough.”

Diane’s blond hair swirled elegantly around her long, graceful neck, and in her casual slacks and black cashmere pullover, she looked younger than Dana had first thought. She realized they’d all probably been in school together. She sipped her coffee. “That must have been fun—the three of you in school together.”

“Well, Blair and Tanner were a little on the wild side,” Diane said self-righteously. “I was the model of decorum.”

Blair snorted. “God, what an awful liar.”

“Oh, all right,” Diane said, nudging Blair’s calf with her toe. “We all had our moments. But just look at us now. Tanner swore she never wanted the business. Never intended to settle down.” Diane shook her head “Now she’s married, to a career naval officer of all things, and you’re about to make a big public splash with a Fed.” She took Blair’s hand. “What a ride.”

Blair gave Diane an affectionate look. “And it’s not over by a long shot.”

Dana was struck once more by the clear and unself-conscious tenderness between the two women. Throw in Tanner Whitley and there had to be a great sidebar there, but the story was none of her business, and no one else’s either. She averted her gaze just in time to see Steph run her hand down the outside of Emory’s arm and briefly squeeze Emory’s hand.

“Who is she , exactly?” Dana asked before she could stop herself.

“Besides yummy, you mean?” Diane replied, her tone teasing.

Dana hoped she wasn’t glowering.

“She works for Tanner,” Blair repeated. “And she’s a friend.”

A very good friend, at least of Emory’s from the looks of it. Dana couldn’t ever really recall being jealous before. Not the way she felt right now. Like she wanted to physically put herself between Steph and Emory and make some macho statement about ownership and beat her chest like an idiot. Emory would probably think she’d lost her mind. She probably had.

“She and Emory look really good together, don’t you think?” Diane said, reaching for a bagel.

“Stop it,” Blair muttered.

Dana gritted her teeth.

“I’m sorry.” Diane laughed. “But since I’m the only one who never gets to see her girlfriend, I’m allowed to act out a little bit.”

“Where is Valerie, anyhow?” Dana asked.

“I don’t recall mentioning her name,” Diane said, suddenly serious.

“You didn’t have to.”

“You’re really good at this reporter thing, aren’t you?”

Dana grinned. “Some people think so.”

“It’s not like you’re not going to see us together,” Diane went on. “At least, I hope you will. If Cameron decides to let her out of this building sometime in the next few days.”