"I want you to think," Blair muttered, her mouth on Cam's neck. "You think about me today, Cameron. You think about making me love you, about making me need you. And you get your ass back here in one piece."

"I never think of anyone but you," Cam said before she claimed her mouth with as much ferocity as Blair had taken hers. After another hungry moment, she pulled away. "I love you."

"Yeah, yeah." Resting her forehead on Cam's shoulder, Blair tenderly smoothed her hands over the front of Cam's leather jacket, then inside to gently caress her chest. "Like that's the answer to everything."

"Isn't if?" Cam smiled and kissed her forehead. "Be back soon, baby." Then she slipped from Blair's embrace and strode down the stairs and around the building, out of sight.

Blair leaned against the post, watching the sunrise over the ocean. It was so indescribable, so heartbreakingly beautiiul. Like love. Before the moment was lost, she hurried inside, dropping her jacket on the floor along the way, and set a fresh canvas on the easel. Her gaze on the sunrise, her heart with Cam, she began to paint.

*

Savard heard the clump-clump-clump of rotors whirring before the black dot on the horizon became distinguishable as an MH-6 Little Bird—an Army Special Ops light assault helicopter. It was one of the smallest attack aircraft in the Army's arsenal, used primarily for insertion and extraction operations. Ordinarily, it carried six combat troops on its external platforms, but currently the ramps were unoccupied. She glanced at Cam. "Interesting form of transportation to a debriefing, Commander."

"There's been a slight change in plans," Cam said, her eyes on the descending aircraft. "It seems there is some degree of urgency since we have a breakdown in the integrity of our team and our intel may not be secure."

Breakdown in the integrity of our team. Savard played that phrase around in her mind. She deciphered it to mean that someone higher up knew that Valerie was gone, and that she had most likely informed the CIA not only of the location of the paramilitary camp but also of the evidence pointing to Matheson's terrorist link. Our intel may not be secure. And someone with a lot of pull was obviously worried that someone else would get to the party first. Her vote would be the Department of Defense. They could mobilize this kind of action pretty damn fast.

"It's rather unusual, isn't it," Savard said quietly, "to deploy the military against civilians? I would think it would fall to us in the FBI to take these guys down."

"Ordinarily it would be your people," Cam replied just as quietly. "But these aren't ordinary times. And after the kind of standoff that happened at Waco, with all the publicity that went with it, I expect even the White House is willing to bend the rules to get this done quickly, quietly, and efficiently."

"And...we're going along?" Savard couldn't quite keep the excitement out of her voice.

Cam smiled with grim satisfaction. "We are."

"Uh, if you don't mind me asking, how...?"

"I made some calls."

"Son of a bitch. I mean, thank you, Commander." Savard grinned. I'll just bet it was a few calls—probably starting with the chief of staff. Her eyes glinted with anticipation. Her whispered words were lost in the roar of the engine as the attack helicopter settled amidst a cloud of dust and debris. Here we come, you bastards.

Heads down, Savard and Cam ran across the tarmac as the door of the helicopter swung open. As soon as they climbed into the body, an Army officer in combat garb with lieutenant's bars on his shoulders crouched down in front of them. The helicopter began to ascend.

"Which one of you is Roberts?" he shouted, handing them headsets to muffle the motor and to allow them to speak to one another in flight.

"I am," Cam yelled back, situating the headgear and flicking the transmitter switch. She grabbed a strap that hung from the ceiling to steady herself and pointed to Savard. "Special Agent Savard, FBI."

The lieutenant nodded to both of them. "We'll refuel in Virginia and rendezvous with the other aircraft, then proceed directly to the target. We've been advised that you are to be considered embedded members of the team. You all will be in the strike zone."

"Understood," Cam replied.

"There're vests under the benches. Do you require assault rifles?"

"We're armed," Cam said. "We'll be fine, Lieutenant."

He studied her face for a moment, then nodded as if satisfied. "Enjoy the ride." Then he settled back on his heels, one hand curled around another hanging strap, closed his eyes, and appeared to go to sleep.

Savard glanced at Cam, raised her eyebrows, and grinned. She mouthed the words, Let's rock 'n roll.

Cam grinned and nodded back.

*

Blair stepped out onto the deck carrying two cups of coffee. She handed one to Stark.

"Thank you," Stark said, taking the mug. The sun was up, but the air was still chilled, and although it usually didn't bother her, this morning she was cold. She shivered inside her regulation-issue nylon jacket.

"Hell of a morning so far," Blair said.

"Yeah. How's Diane?"

"She's okay. She's willing to believe there's a good reason for what Valerie did, at least for now."

"I'm sure there's a reason," Stark grunted. "How good it is depends on whose team you play for."

"Well, she never really was part of this team."

"Maybe not officially, but we trusted her. Felicia's pretty steamed. They worked pretty close on this one."

"Do you know what's happening?"

"Not for sure. No."

"Would you tell me if you did?"

Stark met Blair's seeking gaze. "The reason that I think Commander Roberts has been so successful heading this detail is because she never kept you in the dark. Yes, I would tell you."

Blair smiled softly. "You don't think it's because I've fallen in love with her and will do anything she says?"

A second passed while Stark struggled to compose her features, but finally she surrendered and laughed. "Uh, no, that had never crossed my mind."

"Well, just so you don't think that I'm always so easy."

"I think there's nothing easy about the position you're in," Stark said seriously. "And the only thing I want to do is make it as uncomplicated for you as possible."

Blair leaned her hip against the railing, her expression contemplative as she considered Stark's uncomplicated honesty and essential goodness. "You know, I owe you an apology."

Stark looked confused. "I'm sorry?"

"For that night in Colorado."

"No, you don't," Stark said. "Everything that happened that night was mutual."

"You're not blushing. I don't even know how to interpret that."

"Let's just say I'm not embarrassed about something that will always be very special."

To her consternation, Blair found herself blushing. "Well. Thank you."

"Renee doesn't know."

Blair smiled. "And she never will unless you tell her."

"She doesn't seem to care about the past all that much."

"Smart woman."

"Yeah," Stark said with a sigh. She sipped her coffee and studied the empty beach. "I feel bad because sometimes I wish she weren't an FBI agent."

"That makes sense to me. I bet there's times she wishes you weren't a Secret Service agent, either."

Stark nodded. "She said something like that this morning."

"And I don't imagine either one of you is planning on retiring."

"No. Not likely." Stark straightened, shaking off the melancholy. They'd strayed far beyond the boundaries dictated by their professional relationship long ago, and although she welcomed the friendship, she also had a job to do. "So, we should discuss your agenda for the day."

"My agenda?" Blair grimaced. "Anything that will keep my mind off where the hell my lover is and what trouble she's getting herself into."

"I'm sure the commander will be fine," Stark said with absolute certainty. "Anyhow, they're probably spending the whole day meeting with one committee after another."

Blair narrowed her eyes. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

"I wouldn't," she admitted, "except I can't see anyone staging any kind of action so quickly. It takes too much planning, and there's going to be too many people who want to be in charge." Stark shook her head. "I'm sure they'll be meeting with the president's security advisers and maybe the head of the Intelligence committee. That's it."

"Dial the White House on your secure line," Blair said.

Stark blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I want to talk to Lucinda, and I know that no one is supposed to know where we are. So scramble it for me."

"Uh, that's probably not the best idea—"

Blair laughed. "This is where you get to be reminded what a pain in the ass it is being my security chief. Because I can call anyone I want to anytime, anyplace. So if you don't want me to use the phone in the living room—"

"Just one minute, Ms. Powell," Stark said formally, opening her phone. She rapidly punched a series of numbers and held it out to Blair. "There you go."

"Thank you," Blair said sweetly. As Stark started to walk down the steps, apparently to give her privacy, Blair added, "There's no need to go. This involves you too. Hello, Luce? It's Blair."

"Blair. Everything all right?"

"No problem. Well, unless you take into consideration that I'm in hiding because my lover doesn't trust anyone, including you."

"I think for the time being it's reasonable to allow Commander Roberts to make those decisions. The president has every confidence in her."

"Uh-huh. Everyone thinks she's superhuman. That's sort of why I'm calling. All this confidence everyone has in her. Where exactly is my lover?" She gripped the railing as she waited for the answer and heard only a faint buzz in the background.

"I'm afraid I don't have an answer on that at the moment. I can assure you, however—"

"Is it that you don't want to tell me or you can't tell me?"

"Both, and by now, you should know the reasons why."

Blair thought she heard a sigh, but she couldn't be certain, and it would certainly be out of character. Before she could demand more information, Lucinda spoke again.

"If you call me back in approximately two hours, I may have more to tell you. That's the best I can do, Blair."

Blair looked at her watch. "Don't go anywhere. I'll call back in exactly two hours." She hung up and looked at Stark, whose face was a study in barely suppressed anxiety. "I don't think they're in a meeting."

Chapter Thirty

T he helicopter set down in a small unpaved landing zone in the middle of a forested area where three other Little Birds, fully equipped with combat troops, waited on the ground. A fuel truck bounced across the rutted field, and when the lieutenant jumped down to supervise the refueling, Cam reached beneath the narrow bench and extracted one of the protective vests. She tossed it to Savard and released another from its restraining clip for herself.

"We let the commandos sweep the front line. I imagine there are more men like the four who hit the Aerie in this camp. You weren't there that morning, but these guys are well trained and very well armed."

"You and your team handled them pretty well, Commander." Savard's eyes glittered with a dangerous combination of adrenaline and anger. "Without body armor."

"We were lucky." She didn't think there would ever come a day when she didn't see Foster with his service weapon leveled at Blair's chest. She pushed the image from her mind. She wanted justice. Even more, she wanted retribution. But not at a price that Blair would ultimately have to pay. "We're here to see that these men don't get away with treason and terrorism. We're here to see it, not do it."

"I'm going in with my weapon drawn." Savard's gaze lost focus as she remembered the very earth tremble beneath her feet as the Towers came down. "They'll never be able to pay enough for what they did, no matter how small a part they had in it."

"If you've got something to prove, Agent," Cam said quietly, "this isn't the place for it. We bring up the rear, once the area has been cleared. That's an order."

"Yes, ma'am," Savard said smartly.

A clean-shaven redhead of about forty clambered into the helicopter. "I'm Major Simons, in charge of this operation. We'll be airborne in five minutes."