Chapter Twenty-two

Monday

Cam rolled over, trying not to wake Blair, and checked the bedside clock. The alarm was due to go off in two minutes. Blair slept with her back to Cam’s front, her hips cushioned in the curve of Cam’s pelvis. Cam shifted closer and wrapped her arm around Blair’s midsection. When she kissed the side of Blair’s neck, Blair murmured and drew Cam’s hand to her breast. The nipple hardened and Blair sighed.

“Baby,” Cam murmured, “we need to get up.”

“Can we cheat?”

Cam laughed. “We could, but I don’t trust those reporters not to show up early. I’d prefer to have clothes on when they arrive.”

Grumbling, Blair rolled onto her back and pulled Cam down for a kiss. “Quickies like last night are nice, but I’m getting that wanting you to make love to me for an hour feeling.”

“If you hadn’t put me to sleep quite so efficiently last night, I would have taken care of that for you.”

Blair grinned. “I love knocking you out. It makes me feel virile.”

“Virile, huh?” Cam smoothed her hand down Blair’s belly and brushed her fingers between her legs. She was wet. “Not the first thought that comes to my mind.”

“I meant like potent and powerful.” Blair tilted her hips and opened her legs. “Five minutes. Five minutes to take the edge off until we can steal a couple of hours to ourselves.”

Cam settled against the pillows. “Come up here.”

Blair got to her knees and straddled Cam’s chest. When Cam cupped her ass and guided her down, she closed her eyes and took the pleasure only Cam could give her.

Matheson wrapped his thin thermal blanket around his rifle and buried it in the snow at the base of a forked pine. He wouldn’t need it for the close-in action he had planned, and the extra few seconds it would buy him not to tip off the agents guarding his quarry would be vital. Next he secured the extra ammo clips for his automatic in the pockets of his jacket. Then he chewed a K-ration bar and observed the shift change taking place at the rear of the cabin. Every four hours throughout the night, the agents had changed. Now an agent in winter BDUs made his way around the side path to the back deck, climbed the steps, and stopped next to the hot tub to speak to the woman who had had the last watch. Matheson smiled, thinking about the hot tub scene. Best surveillance duty he’d ever had. He couldn’t radio his second with an update yet because the Secret Service would have monitoring devices to pick up any transmissions in the area. He estimated he would have five seconds before the agent outside Blair Powell’s back door realized what he had planned.

Emory sat up in bed and ran her hand over the empty place beside her. The space was still warm. She heard water running in the bathroom and relaxed. Dana hadn’t left. The bathroom door opened, and when Dana emerged, naked, Emory smiled. “Hi.”

Dana slid back in bed and kissed Emory. “Hi. How’s your morning going?”

“It’s different.”

“How so?” Dana’s tone was light but she looked worried. “Morning-after regrets?”

“No.” Emory ran her fingers through Dana’s hair. “But I have never been at such a loss as to what I should say. Or do.”

“Anything bothering you?” Dana propped her head on her elbow and caressed Emory’s shoulder and arm with the other hand.

“Not that I can think of, although my mind is a little fuzzy still.” Emory stroked Dana’s hip.

“Sleep okay?”

“In between waking up to have sex with you?” Emory shook her head, not quite believing how many times she’d come and amazed that she wanted to again, already. “I feel great. Should I apologize for not letting you get any sleep?”

“Hardly. Everything about last night was fantastic.” Dana dipped her head to kiss Emory’s breast, then rolled her tongue lazily around the swiftly hardening nipple. When Emory moaned and held her head more tightly to her breast, Dana ignited, just as she had every time Emory had reached for her in the night. Emory was magic in bed. As wary as Emory was out of bed, she was equally unreserved in it. She asked for what she wanted and seemed to delight in pleasuring Dana, leaving Dana endlessly hungry for her. Dana moved to the other nipple while continuing to toy with the one she had abandoned.

“You make it really really hard for me to think,” Emory complained weakly. Needing more contact, aching for Dana in a way she had never before experienced, she pulled Dana on top of her. She kissed her, fusing their centers while massaging the strong muscles in Dana’s shoulders and back. “Oh God, that’s good.”

Dana braced herself on her arms, thrusting harder and faster between Emory’s legs. Emory’s nails dug into her skin, raked the length of her back, and clutched at her ass. Emory’s eyes flew open and the awe and pleasure skating across her face made Dana’s clit swell and pulse.

She groaned.

“Oh, you’re going to come, aren’t you,” Emory said, wrapping her legs harder around Dana’s hips. “I love it when you…oh. God… I’m…”

“You too.” Dana gasped and her eyes slammed shut. “Oh Christ.”

They clung to one another, straining, shivering, crying out. Then Dana’s arms folded and she collapsed into Emory’s embrace. Emory stroked her hair, the back of her neck, her shoulders.

“I love what you do to me,” Emory whispered.

“You kill me.”

Emory smiled, physically satisfied and supremely content. She thought about what she’d said last night, that if she made love to Dana, kept control, she wouldn’t lose herself. How foolish she had been. She hadn’t been able to keep Dana out of any part of herself. She hadn’t known what true need was until Dana had awakened it in her, and answered it. “God, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Dana raised her head, a frown forming between her brows. “About what?”

Emory traced Dana’s mouth with her fingers. “About you. About this hunger I have for you.”

“It’s new for me too,” Dana said. “But last night feels like a beginning. I’m not going anywhere.” She glanced at the clock and grinned ruefully. “Well, not permanently. But I have to go now.”

“Work?”

“’Fraid so.” Dana rolled out of bed.

Emory missed her immediately.

“I have a pre-press interview scheduled with Blair, and if I don’t get going, I’ll be late.” Dana kissed Emory quickly and grabbed her clothes before she gave in and did what she wanted to do, which was taste her and tease her and make her come again. And again. She pulled on her jeans and T-shirt. “Can I see you later? Alone.”

“Yes.” When Dana leaned down for another kiss, Emory curled an arm around her neck and, unable to stop at just a light kiss, plunged into her mouth, drinking her in. When she let her go, she knew she would ache for her for hours. “But I can’t promise I won’t attack you the instant I see you.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Dana ran a hand through her hair and shook her head. “Jesus. I really don’t want to go.”

Emory yanked the covers up to her chin and clutched them to her body. “Go now. Go, or I’m going to drag you back down here and I’m not going to let you up again today.”

Dana backed away, her eyes devouring Emory. “Think about me.”

“You have no idea.” Emory sighed. “I haven’t been able to think about anything else since the moment I saw you.”

Dana slipped out the bedroom door and Emory collapsed into the pillows. Her body was in turmoil, but her mind was as clear and calm as it had ever been. For the first time in her life, she didn’t have to understand something to know it was right.

Matheson watched Cameron Roberts stride down the path toward the lodge just as another agent he didn’t recognize headed toward the cabin. That made three agents stationed somewhere in the vicinity of the cabin. He was neither surprised nor deterred. The president’s daughter was never alone, but there were usually fewer people around her while she was in her private quarters than out in public. That’s why he had organized the first strike on her loft. This cabin wasn’t much different. The main lodge was crawling with agents, and according to the White House press bulletin the previous day, a press conference was scheduled later on in the morning. His window of opportunity to get to her was very small, and would never be perfect. Fortunately, surprise was on his side. And of course, so was God. If he’d wanted to kill her, she’d be dead by now. For the moment, at least, he would attempt to deliver what his foreign friends had requested. He removed the Glock from its holster and set off into the woods. If he approached the cabin from the side farthest from the lodge, he would be invisible most of the way.

He drew in a deep breath of sharp mountain air. It was a great day for a hunt.

“Morning,” Dana said to Paula Stark as she climbed the steps to Blair’s cabin. She indicated the door. “I’m expected.”

“Morning.” Stark knew the day’s schedule, including the media circus that was planned for noon. Nightmare was more like it. Controlling traffic up and down the mountainside was going to be a challenge, and despite ID checks and required press passes, limiting Blair’s exposure to the press and the curious was essentially impossible. Short of keeping Blair inside, absolute security was unattainable. Nevertheless, it was Stark’s job to provide just that. “She’s waiting.”

“Thanks.” Dana knocked and Blair answered immediately. “I hope I’m not too early.”

Blair smiled. “You’re right on time. Come on in. I just put fresh coffee on.”

Dana stepped through the door and removed her jacket. She’d barely had time to grab a shower, pull on fresh jeans, a T-shirt, and pullover before rushing back to Blair’s. When she had passed Emory’s cabin, it took all her willpower not to detour for just a minute. She’d resisted because she knew that a minute was not going to be enough, and she could hardly keep the president’s daughter waiting. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help wondering if Emory had gone back to sleep, curled around the memory of their night together. Pushing away the images that threatened to stir her up and wreak havoc on her concentration, she indicated the coat tree. “May I?”

“Of course.” Blair headed back toward the kitchen. “Hungry? I’ve got bagels to go with that coffee.”

“Sold.”

As Dana followed, she heard a thump on the back porch. Snow sliding off the roof, most likely. A new storm had blown in sometime before dawn, and already several new inches had accumulated on the path.

The guard on the rear deck jerked to attention when a figure appeared around the corner of the cabin. Without hesitating, he stepped forward, his hand sliding inside his jacket. “That’s far enou…”

Matheson raised the pistol and fired. Blood blossomed on the agent’s forehead, and he fell. Before the body landed, Matheson reared back, kicked the back door open, and vaulted into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” he said pleasantly as he leveled his gun on the first daughter. “Is that coffee I smell?”

“Who are you?” Blair quickly backed up into the doorway, hoping to shield Dana from the intruder’s line of sight. If he didn’t see her, Dana might have a chance to get out. She judged the distance to his gun hand. Not enough room for a roundhouse kick, but with luck a well-placed snap kick might work.

Before Blair could try, Matheson rushed her, spun her around toward the living room, and shoved her with a fist to the middle of her back. “Move.”

Blair shouted a warning to Dana before crashing into an end table. Matheson clubbed Dana in the temple. As she fell, the front door burst open. Stark raced inside, shouting into her transmitter, her gun sweeping the room.

Matheson opened fire.

As the red-alert signal came over her receiver, Patrice Hara jumped up from the small dining room table, knocking her coffee cup to the floor. “Greg!”

Wozinski crashed through the double doors from the kitchen. “I heard it!”

“Someone advise Commander Roberts!” Patrice raced for the door.

Seconds later, she and Wozinski sprinted down the snow-covered path toward Blair’s cabin. Vaughn ran up the trail toward them from the far side of Blair’s cabin. Patrice shouted into her radio. “Stark? Julio? Status?”

“Jesus,” Wozinski panted when his receiver remained silent. “Where are they?”

Patrice caught movement out of the corner of her eye and pivoted, her gun extended. Cameron Roberts ran toward them over the hard-packed snow in her shirtsleeves, her weapon out, her face a study of eerie calm.

“Report?” Cam barked, never slowing her pace.

“Don’t know.” Patrice stepped aside as the commander barreled past, then rushed to catch up. “I got an interrupted transmission from… oh Jesus.”

Everyone except Cam skidded to a halt. Blair stood framed in the doorway of the cabin. A man in winter BDUs stood behind her, watching them approach. He held an automatic pistol to Blair’s temple.

“Hara, Wozinski, stay back,” Cam shouted, halting at the foot of the path that led to Blair’s cabin. Then she leveled her weapon on the man in the doorway. Matheson. At last. “Let her go.”

Matheson smiled. “I don’t think so.”

Cam’s head felt like it might explode. She was going to kill him for touching Blair. Not now. Later. She would kill him later. She forced back the terror at the sight of the gun against Blair’s head. Not like Janet—Blair, not Janet. Blair. He would not take Blair. Cam eased slowly forward in the unblemished snow, one step at a time, her weapon steady in a two-handed grip. “What do you want?”

“That’s far enough.” Matheson pushed the gun barrel into Blair’s temple, and Blair winced, coming up on her toes to relieve the pressure.

Cam was close enough to see the expression in Blair’s eyes. Fear, yes, but above all, fury. Good, Blair would need that anger to keep her head clear. Cam halted. Dead man. You’re a dead man.

“What do you want?” Cam repeated calmly. If he’d wanted Blair dead, he would have shot her and been long gone.

“Tell the president to expect a call.”

“I can help you get what you want.” Cam took another cautious step forward. Twenty yards. She was good at twenty yards, but not good enough. Always trade for something. She would have to break a few rules, but this was Blair. “Let’s work together here.”

“Why should I do that? I hold all the power.” He looped an arm around Blair’s neck and jerked her against his chest, shielding his body further. “I have her.”

“You know how it works,” Cam said, playing to his ego. “Show of good faith. You give me something, I make a call to the right person.”

“And what would you want?”

“I need to come inside. Then I’ll make some calls.”

“No,” Blair cried, her voice muffled from the pressure of Matheson’s arm on her throat.

Matheson laughed. “We’ve got enough people inside already.”

“Then I’ll trade places with her. I’ll be a lot more useful to you than her. I know who holds the power in Washington. Do you really think it’s her father?” Cam laughed and took another step. Almost close enough. If she could just draw his fire. She was counting on her team to have gotten someone into position with a sniper rifle. “Me for her.”

Blair struggled in Matheson’s grip and cried out when he fisted his hand in her hair, yanking her head back. His expression hardened. “Maybe everyone will feel more inclined to be helpful if I put a bullet in her.”

“All right, all right,” Cam shouted. “If you hurt her, you’ll have nothing to bargain with.”

“I’ve got a lot to bargain with. One of your agents is bleeding out on the floor just inside,” Matheson said conversationally. “And I’ve got another one who’s going to have quite a headache if she ever comes to.” He smiled. “I’ve got plenty of currency.”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Cam said, standing rigid, her gun still trained on him. She didn’t raise her voice, but it carried through the clear cold air like steel slicing flesh. “Hurt her, and God Almighty could be in that room and it won’t save you.”

“What makes you think God isn’t in this room?” Matheson dragged Blair backward into the cabin. At the last instant, he turned his gun on Cam.

Blair’s scream was lost in the sound of gunfire.