Radclyffe - Honor Guards

Cam opened her fly, tucked in her shirt, and zipped up. "That's just SOP. I don't even think about it."

Blair regarded her lover contemplatively, not angry, but curious. "How do they teach you to do that?"

"What?" Cam slid both arms around Blair's waist and kissed her softly. "What?"

"You're being unusually dense this morning." Blair rested her forearms on Cam's shoulders, watching the colors swirl in Cam's eyes.

Cam grinned. "Too much sex."

Despite herself, Blair smiled. Then her expression grew serious. "How do they teach someone to be willing to die for a paycheck?"

"It's not about that," Cam murmured. "You know that."

"I don't understand why you do it."

Cam rested her forehead against Blair's and took a long breath. "It's an honor."

Blair made a small sound and pressed her face to Cam's neck. "Oh God. I do love you."

"I'm so glad." Cam kissed her once more, still softly, but this time she allowed herself the luxury of lingering- She traced her tongue over the soft surface of Blair's lips and into the warm welcome of her mouth, knowing that it could be hours or even days before she might do so again. Then, resolutely, she released her hold and stepped away. "I love you, too."

"I'll be ready in just a second." Blair was subdued as she turned away to sort through the clothes Felicia had packed for her. Even though she would be with Cam for almost the entire day and probably most of the evening, it would not be the same. She would not be free to touch her without thinking, or to smile or laugh or cry with her without restraint. Even though their relationship was no longer a secret, her behavior was still under scrutiny, and the personal was about to become very public.

"Blair," Cam said softly.

Blair looked up, a question in her eyes.

"I miss you, too."

Oddly, the admission lifted Blair's heart. Knowing that she was not alone in her longing gave her the strength to banish the loneliness. "Thank you."

Nodding solemnly, Cam shrugged into her jacket and checked to be sure that she could access her weapon without interference. Satisfied, she said quietly, "I'll wait outside with Felicia."

"Of course. I'll be out shortly, Commander."

The short ride in the Peugeot, one of the regulation French security vehicles, passed in silence. Felicia drove while Cynthia Parker, the newest member of Blair's detail, rode shotgun in the front passenger seat. Parker was on temporary loan from the White House security division, replacing Ellen Grant, who was recovering from an injury sustained while thwarting an attack on Blair. Parker, in addition to having ten years in the protective division, had worked in counterterrorism, and Cam had requested her specifically for the Paris detail.

In the backseat, Blair and Cam sat wordlessly side by side. As the car turned into the wide driveway fronting the Hotel Marigny, Cam murmured, "I'll call you as soon as we're done briefing."

Blair reached out and rested her hand on Cam's thigh. "I need to shower and change. Just come when you're done."

Covering Blair's fingers with her own, Cam squeezed lightly. "Fine." Then she released her lover's hand and checked the activity streetside before opening the car door. Two agents, Hernandez and Michaels, approached and, once they flanked the rear door, Cam stepped out. She looked up and down the plaza, then to the hotel entrance, and finally up the building's exterior, checking every window. Most modern hotel windows did not open, but it was a simple matter to cut out a square of glass through which to extend a rifle barrel. With luck, the glint of sunlight on steel would give an early warning, but many weapons had a matte black finish that prevented precisely that kind of reflection. She saw nothing amiss and turned to lean into the vehicle. "We're ready for you, Ms. Powell."

As soon as Blair stepped out, the two agents immediately closed in on either side. Cam walked slightly ahead, and Blair knew without looking that Felicia was right behind her. The phalanx of guards escorted her inside the building, across the lobby, and into the elevator. They rode to the top floor and into the east wing where two penthouse suites had been reserved for Blair and her security team. The second suite had become the command base while she was in Paris, and the agents, including Cam, slept in rooms one floor down. In the hall outside Blair's room, Cam murmured, "I'll see you soon."

Blair watched her lover disappear into the room opposite hers, and then she opened her own door and stepped inside. Felicia took up a post in the hallway outside. Alone, Blair wearily stripped and headed toward the bathroom. She didn't regret the loss of a night's sleep, because the hours with Cam had more than made up for it. Her weariness now was not from fatigue, but rather from the long years of the restricting routine. Nevertheless, reaching in to turn on the shower, she felt a surge of happiness. She remembered falling asleep, and much more importantly, awakening, in Cam's arms.

Cam shed the evening jacket as soon as she walked into the temporary comm center. Laptops were open and running on every available surface, and an entire bank of monitors displayed images of the hallway outside and the interior of all the elevators that serviced Blair's floor. A youthful-appearing blond man in his early thirties, wearing dark chinos and a blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his mid-forearms, sat in the center of the U-shaped array of electronics. He had a healthy complexion and cornflower blue eyes and might have passed for Brad Pitt on one of Pitt's less scruffy days.

"What have we got, Mac?" Cam asked as she walked over and dropped into an adjacent chair.

"Good morning, Commander," Mac Phillips said with a friendly smile. If he took note of the fact that his commander was still wearing the clothes she had worn to the embassy gala the night before, he showed no sign of it. "The data information service from the NSA gave us early warning that the...news release regarding Ms. Powell was due to hit the streets this morning." He glanced at his watch. "In approximately four hours now."

As soon as Blair had given Mitchell the interview, Cam had advised her team of it, leaving out most of the details but warning them to prepare for increased media attention at any moment.

"Let's get the team together so we can review the adjustments we need to make in the rest of the itinerary." Cam glanced at her watch. "Give me fifteen minutes. I'll be in my room if you need me."

"Very well, Commander."

Cam left to shower and change, wondering just how much she was going to have to disappoint her lover. When she returned to the comm center, dressed now in her usual work attire—dark suit, white shirt, black tasseled dress shoes—all of her agents except those currently detailed to Blair were present. Most she had worked with since she had assumed command of Egret's personal security detail nine months earlier. There were a number of new faces—several agents who had been assigned temporary duty due to the increased security required when Egret traveled abroad and one replacement for a core team member absent due to injury.

Cam accepted all of them at face value because she fundamentally believed in the integrity of the Secret Service. On the other hand, she trusted fewer than a handful implicitly. Those agents had been tested under fire with her—more than once—and those select individuals she trusted without reservation. Those were the only people she would entrust with Blair's life, and she counted on them to take command in the event that anything were to happen to her. She had given the responsibility of shift rotation to Mac, with the understanding that at least two of these unofficial "core" agents would be present on every detail.

"Commander," a number of voices called as she entered.