Radclyffe - Oath of Honor

“I know he is. But this campaign is going to be more of a dogfight than it was the first time around, and I need to be there.”

“Of course.”

“I hate being away from you.”

“I know. I hate it when my job pulls me away.”

“You’re awfully calm,” Blair said, nuzzling Cam’s neck. She kissed her throat softly. “What are you not telling me?”

The chuckle reverberated in Cam’s chest again. Blair loved the feel of Cam’s hands on her, the heat of Cam’s body warming the cold places no other had ever touched. Desire welled within her, and she slid her hand inside Cam’s jacket and brushed her fingers over Cam’s chest. Cam’s intake of breath was so swift and sharp, an arrow of sweet need struck inside her. Dangerous. She could forget what she was thinking, where she was, everything except wanting more. “Cam?”

Cam tightened her fingers on Blair’s nape. She’d been hoping to avoid this conversation for a few more hours, but she’d never learned how to keep anything from Blair. The longer they were together, the worse she got at it. “I’m going to take a leave of absence so I can—”

“You are not.”

“Andrew’s reelection is just as important to me as it is to you,” Cam said. “I’m going with you.”

Blair took note of Cam’s calm tone. Unruffled, unshakeable. The way she sounded when she was determined on a course she knew Blair would object to. Blair kept her voice down, barely.

“You are a deputy director of Homeland Security. Your job is critical. It’s who you are, it’s what you do. You’re not taking time off to drag around the country on planes and trains and God knows what while my father gives reelection speeches, eating at fast food chains at four a.m. and fielding mud balls from hecklers in the audience.” Blair poked a finger into Cam’s chest. “You’d die of boredom in a week.”

“I’m not going to be working crossword puzzles while all of this is going on,” Cam said. “Lucinda will find something for me to do.”

Blair braced her palm against Cam’s chest and pushed back until she could meet Cam’s eyes. “You already talked to her about this?”

Cam nodded.

“This might be the shortest marriage in history.”

“As long as we make it through our wedding night.” Then Cam’s beautiful, sexy mouth curved upward, and Blair wanted to kiss her, which only made her angrier.

“Damn it, Cameron.”

“I had to know what my options were before I could say anything to you. I had a feeling you might disagree—”

“Oh really? You did? How perceptive of you.” Blair kissed her, not caring that half the room might be watching. “I could kill you.”

“If that’s any indication of your methods, I’ll—”

“We’re not done talking about this.”

“We will.” Cam kissed her back, slow enough and hard enough to drown Blair’s anger. “But I want to be with you. Only and always you.”

Blair sighed, surrendering to the need that never lessened, and rested her cheek against Cam’s shoulder. “I guess it’s a good thing I married you, then.”

*

Evyn had half an hour before she was due to relieve Gary on the gate. She found a quiet corner by a bank of windows in a long hallway at the rear of the house. Below her, the ocean roiled against the shore. The slashing whitecaps looked nothing like the warm crystalline waves that broke along the south Florida coast. These surges were gray and cold and hard, as merciless as the wind buffeting the dunes, freezing the blood—icing the bones.

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Wesley Masters said from beside Evyn.

Evyn glimpsed Masters’s face in profile, as starkly beautiful and commanding as the ocean below them, and she was anything but chilled—a flash of heat enveloped her and she had to catch her breath to stifle a gasp. Even a simple greeting was beyond her.

“Sorry,” Masters said, stepping away. “I’m intruding.”

“No,” Evyn said quickly. “You’re not at all. I was just…” She was at a loss to explain, having been caught in a contemplative moment that was so atypical of her she was embarrassed. Most of her daily conversation was with her fellow agents, talking about sports and office gossip and the latest movies—anything to pass the time before those intense moments when all that mattered was the constant search for danger, when a split-second’s delay could be disastrous. In the off time, when the pressure was relieved, all she wanted was to let down her guard even a little—no demands, no obligations, no one to ask more than she could give. She waved a hand toward the window. “I was just…well, daydreaming.”

Wes turned toward her, that intent expression in her eyes. “Were you?” She looked deep into Evyn’s eyes for another second, as if she might find the memory of her imaginings still swimming beneath the surface. Then she turned to look back out at the ocean. “I’ve always thought the ocean held all the mysteries of life. I could watch it forever.”

“Is that why you joined the navy?” Evyn asked, speaking softly so as not to shatter the strange sensation of having stepped slightly outside her life. She wanted to preserve this sheltered moment as long as possible and had no idea why.

Wes laughed shortly. “I suppose—that and I bought into the idea of traveling the world while doing the work I wanted. All that seems so whimsical now.”

“You don’t strike me as the whimsical type.”

“No, I was always practical,” Wes said, although there had been a time, long ago, before her father died—before everything changed—when she’d dreamed without boundaries. “I knew growing up I’d need to join the armed forces if I wanted an education. I chose the navy because of the sea.”

“But you stayed in. You didn’t have to.”

“No, I could have left after I fulfilled my educational obligations, but the navy needs doctors and teachers, and I was comfortable.”

“Is that what you do mostly, teach?” Evyn came back to earth as the sinking feeling in her stomach spread. Masters was not only green, she wasn’t even a front-line medic.

“Yes,” Wes said. “I’m an associate professor at the Uniformed Services University.”

Evyn watched the frothing water climb higher on the sands, encroaching on the dunes, and digested that little detail. A professor. The choice of Wes Masters to replace O’Shaughnessy made even less sense, but then most government decisions were based on some complex rubric of politics, power maneuvering, and personal agendas. She should never have expected any of it to make sense. She looked at Masters, who was contemplating her again. “This duty is going to be a lot different than what you’re used to.”

A muscle bunched in Masters’s jaw, but her expression remained calm, appraising. “I’m aware of that, Agent. I can assure you, I’ll be up to the task.”

“Oh, I’m certain of that,” Evyn said. “Unless something changes, it’s my job to see that you are.”

Wes frowned. “I’m sorry? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t really understand, either,” Evyn said. “I don’t understand why Peter Chang—” She broke off, sucked in a breath. She was about to lose her cool and complain about Peter being passed over to the last person who should know she had issues. She never made mistakes like that. “I’ve been assigned to orient you to the interface between the Presidential Protective Detail and the White House Medical Unit.”

“I see.”

Evyn sighed. Maybe it was the cold—three years, and she still wasn’t used to the damn winters. Maybe it was the lack of sleep over the last few days. Maybe it was the unsettling, unwavering focus in Wes’s eyes. But something was making her behave like a stranger to herself as well as an ass. “Look, I’m sorry, Captain. The weather seems to be affecting my mood. I’m usually not quite so surly—well, not after my first cup of coffee.”