Radclyffe - Honor Guards

Stark flushed.

"It's okay, Paula."

Stark glanced across the compartment to Cam, who sat quietly with her eyes trained out the rear window, scanning the incoming vehicles, her weapon still at the ready. The sight of the commander, so steady, so focused, infused Stark with purpose. I need to get myself together. The commander needs backup. Quietly, she said to Blair, "Can you help me, please."

"Of course."

After helping Stark out of her underwear, Blair cleansed the jagged bullet wound in Stark's deltoid area with peroxide, applied an antibiotic ointment, and bandaged it. Throughout the process, Stark remained still and silent. "Let me help you get a dry shirt on."

As Stark carefully pulled on the shirt, another bulletin came over the scanner.

1028 11 September 2001

: The North Tower of the World Trade Center has collapsed.

With an agonized moan, Stark pushed open the door and bolted from the car.

When Blair moved to follow, Cam said quietly, "Let her go."

Blair's patience snapped. "For God's sake, Cam. There's no danger here, and she's suffering. I don't want her to be alone with this."

"She needs to be alone with it." Cam's voice revealed no hint of anger, only sadness. "She needs to put it away for now, and she will. Just give her a minute."

"Is that what they teach you?" Blair demanded wildly. "To bury your pain, even when it's killing you?"

"We don't bury it, Blair. We just save it."

The grief in Cam's face brought tears to Blair's eyes. "Oh, Cam. I'm sorry." Quickly, she crossed the space between them and curled up against Cam's side, threading an arm around her lover's waist and resting her head against her shoulder. "I'm so sorry. None of this is your fault, and everything you're doing is to protect me. I know that, and still I resent what this job does to you."

Cam pressed her lips to Blair's hair and closed her eyes. "I would do anything not to lose you."

"I know." Blair lifted her face and kissed Cam's neck. "I love you." She held Cam a moment longer, then pushed away. "It's time for you to get cleaned up, Commander."

By the time Blair had tended to Cam's scalp wound, Stark, hollow eyed and beyond pale, had returned.

"All right, Stark?" Cam asked.

"Yes, ma'am." Stark's voice was raspy and sore from choking back the bile that had threatened to erupt when she'd heard the bulletin. She had to believe that Renee was still alive. She simply had no other choice. Any other possibility was more than she could bear. "I'm ready."

"Davis," Cam said, "Ms. Powell will give you directions to Whitley Island. Get us there as quickly as you can."

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

1344 11 September 2001:

The aircraft carriers USS

George Washington

and USS

John F. Kennedy

along with five warships have been deployed from the US Naval Station in Norfolk, Virginia to New York.

"Turn here," Blair said, peering out the side window at the open ten-foot-high wrought iron gates that stretched between high stone walls that were almost completely hidden by the dense native foliage.

"Is this the end of the island?" Cam asked. She'd been taking careful note of the topography and population distribution ever since they'd crossed the causeway from the mainland onto Whitley Island. There seemed to be very few residences on the island itself, although she'd caught sight of a marina at the southern tip that appeared to be fairly populated. The isolated locale was both an advantage and a strategic problem. They would be difficult to find, but if detected by unfriendly forces, it would be almost impossible for them to escape.

"Yes, the Whitley estate occupies the entire north half of the island." Wearily, Blair pushed a hand through her hair and glanced across the confines of the rear compartment to Stark. The young agent's eyes were open but so blank that Blair thought she might be asleep. She leaned close to Cam. "We need to have her looked at."

"I know." Cam brushed her fingers over the top of Blair's hand. "It may be twelve to twenty-four hours until I can establish secure links with Washington and get an accurate assessment of our security situation. Until then, we're going to be in a communication blackout. So no hospitals yet."

"What if Tanner could bring a doctor out here?" Blair pushed, because both Stark and Cam needed medical attention. She'd cleaned their wounds, but Stark gave every sign of being in shock, and it was clear that Cam was fighting a headache and possibly worse.

"Give me a few hours to assess the situation, and then I'll let you know my decision."

"All right." Blair squeezed Cam's hand. "Thank you."

As the car slowed, a large stone edifice fronted by terraced gardens, fountains, and flagstone walks came into view. Davis stopped the Suburban in a circular turnaround just opposite the wide steps that led up to a spacious veranda.

Cam gave Blair a raised eyebrow. Blair shrugged.

"This is Whitley Island, and that's Whitley Manor."

At that moment, the reigning Whitley came through the front door. Tanner Whitley was Blair's age, but dark and muscular where Blair was blond and lithe. Not quite as tall as Cam, she nevertheless exuded a similar aura of confidence and command, even in sun-bleached khaki deck pants and a short-sleeved cotton work shirt. She stopped by the side of the vehicle, her dark eyes beneath heavy, nearly straight brows and a slash of dark hair giving her a brooding, James Dean look.

Per protocol, Cam opened the rear door as Felicia came around the front. Blair stepped out between them with Stark exiting close behind.

"Blair," Tanner Whitley said with obvious affection as she stepped forward and kissed Blair on the cheek. "How are you?"

For the first time since the entire nightmare had burst upon her six hours earlier, Blair felt the full weight of the horror—not just her own personal fear and trauma, but what the innocent people in New York City and Pennsylvania and Washington and the rest of the country must be suffering. She reached for Cam, linked arms, and pressed close to her lover for comfort and support. "We're a little banged up, but basically okay. Tanner, this is my lover, Commander Cameron Roberts. My security staff, Felicia Davis and Paula Stark."

Tanner nodded to the agents and extended her hand to Cam.

"Commander."

Their dark eyes were equally appraising as they studied each other.

"Ms. Whitley. I'd like to get Blair inside, if you don't mind," Cam said. "Also, is there somewhere we can put the Suburban where it would not be visible to air surveillance?"

Tanner's gaze did not waver, but her expression registered immediate respect. "Certainly. Please go inside. The kitchen is through to the rear, and our housekeeper, May, will be happy to fix you something for lunch. I'll move the vehicle to the garage myself. My mother is..." Tanner swallowed. "My mother just returned to DC this past weekend, so her car is not here."

"Thank you." Cam nodded to Stark and Davis. "Let's go."

Once inside, the group gravitated toward the sound of a television in a large living room that faced the ocean. No one, however, spared the breathtaking view an instant's attention. The wall-mounted HDTV was tuned to CNN, and within seconds, the tape and voice-over had looped through the devastation in Manhattan, Washington, DC, and a field not far from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. A well-known anchorman repeated the message that had been playing all afternoon.

"Mayor Giuliani has promised that rescue teams will work around the clock until all survivors have been found. At the present time, the number of police, firefighters, emergency personnel, and civilians potentially trapped in the rubble of the twin towers is unknown."