"Are you really serious about protecting me?" she asked.


"Of course."


"Why?"


"Because you need it, and because I have been asked to do it."


"Would you actually 'take a bullet' for me, as they say?" Blair said mockingly. A muscle clenched in Cams jaw, and a storm rose in her gray eyes.


"Yes," she answered curtly. She locked eyes with Blair, searching for some hint of what she was after. She had no doubt there was some point to this. Blairs blue eyes were defiant, and just as searching.


"Youve had some practice at that, havent you," Blair probed. Finally a swift intake of breath and a slight falter in Cams step rewarded her as the question struck home.She does have a weak spot, she thought triumphantly. When Cam failed to answer, Blair pushed.


"Its a matter of record, you know."


"Then you know all there is to know," Cam replied stiffly. She fought to keep the image of Janets face from her mind.


"Really?"


"As you said - its a matter of record."


Blair laughed. "We all know how accurate the records are, dont we, Agent Roberts?"


Their destination was not the expected polished urban health club where Blair practiced yoga and aerobics. Blair led them swiftly past the entrance to the gym and turned down an adjacent alley. Cam groaned inwardly when Blair grabbed her arm and directed her up a flight of narrow littered stairs to a huge room on the third floor of a rundown tenement building.


The clientele was mostly male. There were worn punching bags hung from chains scattered about, men in torn tee shirts or no shirts at all pounding at them. Heavily- muscled lifters grunted and sweated at the free weight benches tucked into every conceivable corner. Two elevated boxing rings dominated the center of the space, one currently occupied by a pair of fighters making a serious effort to score off each other. Cam was willing to bet there were half a dozen felons in the room, any one of whom probably knew exactly who Blair Powell was.


"Have you been here before?" she asked as she weaved her way around bodies, following Blair toward the rear.


"Three times a week for eighteen months."


Cam was furious. No one had told her about this place - she had no background on the members, no idea of the physical layout, and no prayer of guarding Blair effectively. How in hell had this been overlooked?


As if reading her mind, Blair commented, "They dont know about it."


"How?"


Blair grinned, an altogether spontaneous and disarming grin. Or it might have been if Cam hadnt been so angry. "They think Im at my therapists office around the corner most of the time."


"Back door?"


"Uh huh."


Cam didnt ask her why. There was no need to. She knew why. Pointing out the danger would be meaningless. Blair obviously cared less for her safety than for her freedom, and that was probably the result of having people like herself constantly shadowing her for the last fifteen years of her life. What mattered to Cam now was that something similar not happen again.


"Here we are," Blair announced, pulling back the curtain to a small cramped dressing room not much bigger than a walk-in closet. A shower stall and toilet were visible behind a rickety screen in the back. Blair tossed her bag down and in one fluid motion pulled off her shirt. She caught Cam off guard and laughed knowingly as Cams eyes flickered once to her breasts before she quickly looked away.


"You can grab sweats and a tee shirt from my bag. Theres plenty," Blair informed her as she continued to strip. She watched Cam unabashedly as she changed. She knew Cam was aware of her scrutiny, although she gave no sign of it. Cam had the kind of body Blair expected - lean and hard-muscled, a tightly coiled machine. She imagined making those muscles quiver with desire, watching Cam's rigid control break with need. The power of the image stirred a flush of arousal so keen it made her gasp. If Cam heard, she gave no sign of it. She reached for a pair of sweats without hurrying.


Blair looked at the ten inch scar that ran down the outside of Cams right thigh. It was still fresh enough that it hadnt lost the redness. As Cam pulled the pants up, Blair asked, "Is your leg okay?"


"Yes, it is."


Cam pulled on a tee shirt that said 'Ernies Gym'. She faced Blair, who stood appraising her. The Presidents daughter wore a sleeveless tee, torn off a couple of inches below her high firm breasts, and baggy sweats. Sleek well-toned muscles defined her arms and legs. Her exposed midriff was taut, and she sported a small gold ring in her navel. Untamed blond strands escaped from the black headband, wilding around her face. Her blue eyes glinted with brazen sensuality. She was a beautiful animal.


"I take it this is Ernies?" Cam remarked dryly, refusing to be distracted by Blairs open seduction. The time when the promise of a body like that might have interested her was past. The price of possession was too high.


"This is Ernies," Blair rejoined, pushing the curtain aside. She wasnt perturbed by Cams rebuff. She would have been disappointed had it been easy. What bothered her was the undeniable throbbing in her own body. Desire was a weakness, one she exploited in others, but avoided personally. There were too many ways in which other people controlled her. She would not allow another.


**********


Cams head snapped back as a kick landed along her jaw.


"Are you sure you dont want a helmet," Blair called, a hint of laughter in her voice. She moved lightly on the canvas, her gloved hands at chest level. Cam faced her, wearing no gloves or other protective gear.


"No thanks," Cam responded, gauging the reach of Blairs legs with respect. When the next kick came she stepped off the line of the trajectory and deflected it with a forearm. She expected a follow-up punch, and she blocked that as well. She stepped back once again to a middle range, trying to get a feel for Blairs tactics. Blair moved lightly on the canvass, agile and supple. Blair was a kickboxer, and used her feet as weapons in the ring. Cam was trained for the street. Blair attacked relentlessly, mixing kicks, double kicks and strikes with considerable skill. Some scored, although none would have done damage had they been full force.


Cam deflected, blocked and redirected her opponents efforts. She was trained to immobilize and neutralize, and those techniques were not designed for sparring. She knew she couldnt defend this way for long - there was a good chance Blair would make serious contact with one of her kicks. As a sweeping round house kick approached her head, Cam stepped forward into Blairs body, so close to her that the kick lost its force. She trapped Blairs leg with her near arm, grasped the shoulder of Blair's shirt with her other hand, and swept Blairs remaining leg out from under her. Cam held onto her to break her fall, following her down to the mat, and pinned her face down with a shoulder pin.


"Son of a bitch!" Blair muttered as she struggled briefly to lift her torso off the canvass. She stopped when the pressure on her shoulder increased slightly. She wasnt damaged, but she was effectively immobilized.


"If you tap the mat, Ill release you," Cam said softly into her ear. "But you must promise not to punch me as you get up. Rules of war."


Blair laughed as she slapped the mat. She rolled over and found Cam kneeling beside her, a half smile on her face.


"You okay?" Cam asked.


"Dandy. I suppose youll do that again if we start over?"


"I told you I didnt spar," Cam said as they both got to their feet. "Youd annihilate me."


"No, I dont think so," Blair replied softly, stripping off her gloves. "You mind showing me that technique?"


Cam glanced outside the ring, realizing they had drawn quite a crowd. She wasnt sure this was a good time for a lesson, especially when she had no one inside the building. She couldnt very well survey the people around them if she was flat on her back. Blair followed her gaze, her smile disappearing in irritation.


"They dont know me," she said flatly.


Cam saw the resentment in her eyes, and shook her head slightly. "You cant know that."


"I know," Blair insisted. "I always know." She took a deep breath, then added in a whisper, "please."


Cam swept the group leaning on the ropes one more time. "All right."


She demonstrated at half- speed several times while Blair watched intently. Then she launched a kick toward Blairs head, ready to pull back if Blair failed to execute the technique. Blair quickly countered and took Cam down soundly to the cheers of the onlookers. Cam found herself on her back with Blair above her, Blair's bent forearm pressed to Cams neck. Blair pressed her knee between Cams legs and leaned forward until their faces were nearly touching. Her lips were a breath away.


"If you dont slap the mat, I can make this feel a whole lot better," Blair whispered.


Cam gasped as Blair rocked her thigh against Cams pelvis. For a second all she felt was the fire, igniting instantly into a consuming ache. She caught back a moan, shook her head to clear it, and in one upward thrust, dislodged Blair from on top of her. She was on her feet quickly, and in the next instant had vaulted over the ropes and out of the ring.


"Shes too much for you, huh girl?" a burly man next to her said good-naturedly.


"You got that right," Cam responded lightly. She waited as Blair climbed down, then followed her into the dressing room.


"I need to shower," Blair informed her, pulling off her clothes. Cam struggled to quell the remnants of unwanted desire.


"Ill wait outside."


"What are you afraid of, Agent Roberts?" Blair taunted lightly as she stood naked before her. "Ifelt you, you know."


"Take your time," Cam said evenly as she stepped out through the curtain. Blairs laughter followed her even as the throbbing in her pelvis reminded her of her own weakness.








Chapter Seven



Cam slammed the office door hard enough that the glass enclosure rattled. Six agents sat slumped around the table, staring at their pens. Cam stood at the end of the table, breathing heavily, trying to contain her anger.


"How many of you have been on this detail longer than six months?" she asked at length, her words clipped. There was a moment of silence, then Mac cleared his throat.


"All of us, maam."


"All of you." She looked them over one at a time. "All of you."


"Yes maam," he responded.


"Obviously none of you are capable of this assignment, nor worthy of it. Blair Powell - the daughter of the President of the United States -has been criminally unprotected formonths , and not one of you reported it? Even if I could overlook your lack of responsibility to her - which I cant - it is impossible to excuse your silence regarding the potential danger to national security. Were she kidnapped it would threaten the presidency." Leaning forward, both hands flat on the table, she said succinctly, "I want a request for transfer from every one of you on my desk in one hour."


As Cam turned toward the door, Paula Stark stood abruptly. "Commander!"


"Yes?" Cam questioned.


"I dont want a transfer, maam. I want this detail."


"Really? And why is that?"


Stark took a deep breath. "Because she is my responsibility, and because I can do what no one else can. Ive spent months following her through half the gay bars in this city. I am recognized, and Im accepted. I can go where most of the others cant. You need an inside person, and thats me."


Cam regarded her silently.


Paula met Cams penetrating gaze. "I should have filed a report sooner. We lose her regularly, and its always because were never informed of her route, or she changes it, or she intentionally lies to us. Were all frustrated - but thats no excuse."