Radclyffe - Word of Honor

“Nothing personal, Ms. Powell,” Dana said, “but I’m not the right reporter for this assignment.”

“Nothing personal, Ms. Barnett,” Blair said, “but this assignment doesn’t work for me either.”

Dana laughed, then caught the steely expression on Deputy Director Roberts’s face. Dana wasn’t naïve, and even if she hadn’t just come back from the Middle East, she would have had a very good idea of just how precarious the state of national security was at the moment. Anyone who paid attention to the political scene, and Dana did, knew that Blair Powell had dropped from sight immediately after 9/11 and the White House had been very vague as to why. Now she was emerging in the midst of controversy. So much for maintaining a low profile, which Dana was willing to bet the White House and the deputy director would have preferred. She didn’t envy Roberts’s position in all of this, and she definitely didn’t want to piss her off.

“I agree with your take on controlling the press by setting up exclusive coverage, Deputy Director,” Dana said. “It’s a good idea. My only point is—”

“I think you’ve made your position clear,” Cam said flatly. “You apparently find contributing to Ms. Powell’s security beneath you.”

Dana flushed. She knew, as did every other reporter in the United States—in the world, most likely—that Cameron Roberts had nearly died from a sniper’s bullet intended for the first daughter. Roberts might have taken the bullet because she was protecting her lover, but no one doubted she would have done it for anyone under her protection. She was a genuine hero, and one who hadn’t capitalized on her notoriety in any way. For just a second, Dana felt petty in her desire not to be cast as a celebrity reporter, and the discomfort stoked her temper. “There are half a dozen reporters the Chronicle could assign who would fit in better than me and who have more experience with this kind of thing. I’m a field reporter, for Christ’s sake.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Blair interjected, “because it’s not happening.” She looped her left arm through Cam’s and held her right hand out to Dana. “Like I said, nothing personal. It was nice meeting you.”

“Same here,” Dana said.

When the first daughter and the deputy director started out of the office, Dana hurried after them. It would have been nice to think the matter closed, but she knew things were never that simple where politics were concerned.

“You were kind of hard on her, weren’t you?” Blair asked lightly as she and Cam left the West Wing.

“She’s cocky,” Cam said.

“And?”

“And nothing.” Cam pulled her cell phone off her belt and punched in Paula Stark’s number on speed dial. “We’re coming out, Chief.” She glanced at Blair. “Ready to go home?”

“More than ready.” Blair slowed in the lobby just inside the entrance to the West Wing and pulled Cam around to face her. “You don’t usually give up so easily.”

Cam grinned. “Who said I was giving up?”

Blair rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly what I was afraid of.” She looked around to make sure no one was listening, but everyone seemed to be rushing to get to their destination and paid them no mind. Nevertheless, she lowered her voice out of habit. “I’m not having a stranger follow me around, recording my every thought and feeling, during one of the most important times of my life. God, Cam, I don’t even do that for a routine public appearance.”

Cam settled her hands on Blair’s shoulders. “Nothing is routine anymore, baby.”

“This is ours,” Blair said vehemently. She pressed her hand to Cam’s chest. “Ours. I’m not letting anyone take it away from us, not even Lucinda and my father.”

“No one will. I promise.” Cam kissed her softly while a uniformed Marine guard standing nearby stared straight ahead, seemingly oblivious to them. “But the press are going to be all over us, and that makes Stark’s job ten times more difficult. Lucinda is right on this one, Blair. It’s the best way to control the flow of information and keep some distance between you and the reporters.”

“No,” Blair said. “As far as I’m concerned, the matter is closed.”

Cam said nothing, but her eyes took on the shuttered appearance they always did when she was holding in her temper.

“And don’t think about pulling rank on me, either,” Blair snapped, the effort it took to keep her voice down making her tremble.

When it came right down to it, Blair knew that what she wanted didn’t carry as much weight as what others decided was best for her. And one of those other people who had that kind of power over her was her own lover. She resented being made a bystander to her own life, and her solution to that in the past had been to assert her independence any way she could. Sometimes in ways that weren’t particularly smart, or safe. But now she had something that mattered as much as her own personal freedom, and that was her relationship with Cam. When the two things that mattered most to her were at odds, like now, Blair’s better judgment sometimes suffered in the wake of impotent fury. “I don’t want to fight about this.”

“Neither do I.” Cam tensed as they stepped outside under the portico.

Blair noticed Cam automatically scan the grounds. Despite the fact that they were in one of the most secure locations in the world, Cam didn’t let down her guard. She never let down her guard. Blair wasn’t sure she would recognize her if she ever truly relaxed. Even as she thought it, Blair knew there was one time when Cam wasn’t thinking about danger, wasn’t thinking about guarding her, wasn’t thinking about anything at all. When they made love, when Cam gave herself to Blair, the only thing in her mind—the only thing that mattered—was what existed between the two of them. Blair was certain of it, because that was the way she felt too, and she desperately wanted to have that feeling for more than just the moments when they made love. Not just for herself, but for Cam. And if she had to stand up to Lucinda and her father and the whole goddamn world to get it, she would.

“Dana! You’re back!”

“Hiya, gorgeous.” Dana stepped around behind an old-fashioned gunmetal gray desk with dented file cabinets built into either end and kissed the silky-soft skin of the white-haired woman who guarded the door to editor-in-chief Clive Russell’s office with the ferocity of a gorgon. Rumor had it that Amanda Smith held more shares in the paper than half the board members, but preferred her role as secretary to sitting in meetings. Dana had a feeling Amanda had more power right where she was. “Thanks for arranging my ride back.”

Amanda merely smiled as her gaze swept over Dana. “Bad over there?”

“Bad and getting worse,” Dana said grimly. She had a feeling she hadn’t seen the last of Afghanistan, and considering what she’d been piecing together from her sources in the military and on Capitol Hill, Iraq was about to be added to the nasty mix.

“Those pieces you sent back were horrifying.” Amanda touched Dana’s arm fleetingly. “And brilliant. As always.”

Dana flushed at the compliment. Amanda had been known to skim a reporter’s copy and hand it back to be rewritten, declaring it a waste of Clive’s time. Only a rookie would ever argue with her. Dana eyed the closed door to Clive’s office. The lights were on but the blinds in the two huge glass windows facing into the newsroom were drawn, meaning he was unavailable. “I need to see the man.”

Still smiling, Amanda shook her head. “Not now, you don’t. It’s budget time. Try him tomorrow around nine twenty. He’ll have a few minutes then.”