Above All, Honor

by Radclyffe

See part 1 for all disclaimers and copyright information.


Shortly after 5 a.m. the next morning, Blair pushed open the swinging doors to the kitchen and followed the scent of coffee. She found Helen seated at the large scarred wooden table, sipping the steaming brew and working on a crossword puzzle. Helen smiled a greeting and gestured toward the coffeepot.

"Thanks," Blair grunted, reaching for a cup. Moving slowly, she sat beside Helen at the table.

Helen glanced at her, then asked, "Where are your friends?"

Blair grimaced, blowing across the top of the liquid to cool it. "I'm sure thereís someone right outside the back door, and another one in the dining room."

"Doesn't seem like much fun," Helen remarked.

Blair appraised her cautiously. She saw no hint of anything other than open frankness in her face. She allowed herself a brief smile. "Well, I could lie and say Iím used to it. In fact, I am used to it, but I've never learned to ignore it. It bothers me."

"I can imagine. On the other hand, I guess it is impossible to let you run around by yourself."

Blair laughed. "Apparently so."

Helen leaned back, scrutinizing the striking young woman across from her. This was not the sophisticated, perfectly turned out image she was used to seeing on the television and in magazine articles. This woman was naturally beautiful, with no makeup, untamed hair, faded jeans and a baggy sweatshirt that did little to hide the suggestive swell of her breasts. Helen would never have recognized her as the President's daughter. But she would not have overlooked her allure either.

"May I ask how you came to stay here?" Helen asked.

"Friends of mine, Sarah Hughes Whitley and Anne Perry, have stayed here."

Helen raised an eyebrow slightly, remembering the attractive couple from earlier in the season. "Two of my most favorite guests," she responded.

Blair met her gaze evenly, and was pleased to see that the other woman did not avert her eyes. "I'm very fond of them."

"As am I," Helen responded. "You needn't be concerned about my discretion, Ms. Powell. My only interest is in providing my guests with good skiing and privacy. My only hope is that you have seven days of excellent running. I couldn't care less about your personal life."

Blair laughed. "Well, you may be the only person in the United States for whom that's true."

Helen laughed with her. "I think you may be right."


An hour later, Cam walked into the lounge and helped herself to a cup of coffee from the large urn which stood always ready on the side board. She turned, sipping gratefully at the hot liquid, and met the eyes of Helen Craig. Helen stood regarding her silently, a slight smile on her face. Cam nodded and settled into one of the large leather chairs before the fireplace. After a moment, Helen joined her with her own coffee.

"She's already out on the slopes," Helen commented.

"Yes, I know."

"I suppose you do," Helen said softly. "It must be very difficult for her."

Cam had been doing her job too many years to fall into the trap of casual conversation with a stranger. Especially a conversation about someone as high-profile as the President's daughter. However, there was something so genuine about the woman beside her, she felt strangely at ease. "I imagine it is."

Helen might not have any experience with the interpersonal relationships between a woman like Blair and those who guarded her, but she had plenty of experience with the attractions of one woman for another. She had had the opportunity to observe the reserved Secret Service Agent and the First Daughter together the previous night at dinner, and later as they moved about each other in an uneasy truce in the lounge. Blair Powell had scarcely taken her eyes off the tall lanky security chief, and it seemed that Blair's best friend Diane was captivated as well. The object of their attention, however, had revealed little, unless you were watching her. And Helen had been watching her closely. When the others were engaged in conversation the dark-haired woman with the smoky grey eyes watched the President's daughter with a penetrating intensity that should have left marks on her skin. Helen had seen that look before, in the eyes of women who thought they knew their own hearts, and their own minds. In the eyes of women who refused to acknowledge the truth of their own feelings.

"It must be lonely for her. She could probably use of friend," Helen remarked quietly.

Cam sighed, and gently replaced her cup on the coffee table. She walked toward the fireplace, watching the bark glow red and crumble from the logs as they burned brightly to their own destruction. "She has friends. What she needs is to be free. That's something no one can give her."

"There are more ways than one to be free."

When Cam looked back, knowing she had no answers, she found she was alone.


"You really shouldn't let Stark play pinochle. She's god awful, and a danger to herself. If she had been my partner, I would have murdered her," Blair commented as she joined Cam on the wide front deck of the ski lodge. The night was frigid, the air so crisp it tingled against her skin. The sky was impossibly black, with stars so bright, and so numerous, it felt as if she were standing on the edge of heaven. Their breath left small clouds of white crystals in the air around them. Despite the temperature, she was not cold. She had been waiting all evening for an opportunity to be alone with her security chief. Now that the time had come, her pulse raised and her belly stirred with an excitement she tried to ignore.

"Card playing is a necessity for a Secret Service Agent," Cam responded seriously, although the corners of her mouth turned up in a rare smile.

"Yes, I'm sure." Blair stepped closer until her body brushed the shoulder of the woman beside her. She was surprised when Cameron did not move away. "Then again, I'm sure that Secret Service agents need to be talented in many things."

Cam turned to face her, her eyes serious. "Ms. Powell, I know how difficult all of this is for you..."

"I don't think you do," Blair said, resting her gloved hand against Cam's shoulder. "It's damned inconvenient finding a way to get one's security chief into bed without creating a national scandal."

"Perhaps there's a message there."

"There may be, but I have no interest in it. All I'm interested in is you."

Cam stepped back just enough to break their contact. Blair Powell was easily the most attractive woman she ever known. If that weren't enough, Blair was touchingly vulnerable in her unguarded moments. Cam wished there were some way to ease the younger woman's pain. But she could not allow her sympathy to interfere with her effectiveness. She reminded herself that the beautiful seductress before her was not truly interested in her, but rather wanted to use her as the tool to break the chains of her invisible prison. Cameron knew this, and because she did, she ignored the hammering of her heart and the rush of blood into her loins.

"I'm afraid you have mistaken my attentions. Your physical well-being is my only concern. I am not interested in anything other than that."

Blair felt the words rip through her. Although her tone had been light and teasing, she had been serious about her offer to Cam. She had not approached a woman with true desire in more years then she could count. It hurt, this rebuke. Her pain angered her, and as she turned and walked rapidly toward the door, she called caustically, "Don't mistake lust for affection, Commander. My interest in you, as I believe you once said, is strictly biological."

Cameron watched her go, struggling with her own disappointment. Of course she knew that she was only a potential conquest, but that did not lessen the pain of Blair's words.


A knock on her door brought Cam from deep sleep into adrenalized arousal in an instant. She grabbed her gun from the night table as her feet touched the floor. The bedside clock read 4:44 a.m. Cam looked through the peep hole and cursed silently to herself when she saw the figure on the other side. She opened the door an inch and whispered, "What is it, Stark?"

Paula Stark stared white faced at her boss. She swallowed once audibly, and licked her suddenly dry lips nervously. "I need to talk you, Commander."

"Can't it wait?"

"No ma'am, it can't."

Cam opened the door to admit her young subordinate, replacing her gun in its holster on her table. She switched on the bedside lamp and motioned Stark to a chair at the small desk in front of the windows. She sat down across from Stark and looked at her inquiringly. For a moment, she thought that Stark might cry.

"I need to be transferred," Stark stated flatly.

"Is there some reason you felt you needed to wake me in the middle of the night to tell me this?" Cameron asked sharply. She had a bad feeling she knew where this conversation was going.

"I needed to tell you now. I need to leave in the morning."

Cam sighed and leaned back from the table. She ran both hands briskly over face, then peered intently at the pale young woman across from her. "Do you want to tell me what this is all about?"

"I--I don't feel I can continue to carry out my assignment."

"That's not what you told me two weeks ago," Cam stated.

Paula Stark raised her eyes to Cam's for the first time. Her shoulders stiffened slightly as she stated, "I hadn't slept with her then."

Something hard settled deep in the pit of Cam's stomach. She clenched her jaw to stifle the curse that leapt to her lips. She stood abruptly and paced to the other side of the room, turning so quickly in the small space that Stark flinched.

"Are you out of your mind?" Cam seethed, her fury barely contained. She knew instinctively she was handling this poorly, but her immediate reaction was one of deep-seated anger, and uncomfortably, something that felt a great deal like jealousy.

"I didn't know it was going to happen. It was--I don't know--it just, she--" Stark raised her hands in a helpless gesture. "She asked me, and I just couldn't say 'no'."

"Jesus Christ," Cameron muttered. Was there no end to the chaos that woman could create? Now she had to deal with the potential ruin of a very capable young woman's career. "How do you feel about her now?"

Stark looked at her in surprise. It was as if she had never considered the question before. "I don't know."

"Are you in love with her?" Cam asked quietly. For some reason, the words were hard to get out.

"I don't think so," Stark said, clearly embarrassed. "It was--physical."

"Yes, I'm sure it was," Cameron said under her breath. She refused to think about the two of them together, but it was difficult keeping the image of Blair making love with this woman from her mind. She shook her head, forcing herself to deal with the real issues at hand. "I wish that there was some way I could overlook this, but I can't. Even if you have no personal feelings for her, I can't trust you to be objective. I can't trust you not to allow your relationship with her to cloud your judgment. It could be dangerous for her-- and it could be dangerous for you."

Stark looked down at her folded hands resting on the tabletop, her expression one of abject misery. "I know. I've thought of nothing else for the last three hours. Ever since I left her room, I've been agonizing over what to do."

"Why did you tell me?"

Stark looked at her in surprise. "Because if you found out, it would ruin my credibility forever. I made a mistake, but I am not irresponsible."

Cameron looked at her with growing respect. Stark did not drop her gaze as Cameron studied her unwaveringly. "Can you swear to me that there is no romantic attachment between you and Ms. Powell?"

"Yes ma'am, I swear."

"You may continue with your post, Agent Stark. If I find that your judgment or performance is compromised in any way, I will transfer you immediately without regard for its impact on your career."

Stark stood, nearly at attention. "Yes ma'am, I understand ma'am. Thank you so much."

Cameron nodded, suddenly weary. As the door closed behind the young agent, Cameron stretched out on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Eventually she closed her eyes, and tried to ignore the image of Blair Powell naked, her legs entwined with the shadowy figure of Paula Stark.


"May I join you?"

"If you wish."

Blair did not miss the stiffness in Cameron's voice, nor the cold smoldering anger in her eyes. "I take it you know I had company last night."

"I am aware of it."

For some reason, Blair took no satisfaction in making it clear to her aloof security chief that Cameron was not irreplaceable, especially in her bed. In fact, she had been plagued by an unfamiliar uneasiness throughout a restless night. For the first time in her memory, she felt regret. Regret that the woman beside her meant nothing to her. Regret that the entire time she had made love to Paula Stark, she had wished for another's body beneath her lips, beneath her fingers. Regret that even as the young woman lay spent and vulnerable in her arms, she felt nothing for her. Regret that the woman she had taken to her bed had been cheated by that very fact.

Cam gritted her teeth, trying desperately to control her temper. She wasn't certain whom she was most angry with - Paula Stark for her lack of judgment, or Blair Powell- for her total lack of discretion in choosing her bed partners. Looking at the woman across from her, Cameron had to struggle not to imagine the soft sensuous lips stroking her own. She had felt the power of Blair's embrace, and she was finding it difficult to banish it from her memory.

Blair pushed back her chair and stood, her breakfast untouched before her. She stared down at Cam with something close to remorse in her eyes. Nevertheless, her voice was bitter. "If it makes any difference to your sense of ethics, it wasn't exactly her idea. And I'm done with her now. It won't happen again."

Without waiting for an answer, the President's daughter turned away abruptly. She didn't so much as glance in Paula Stark's direction.

Cameron sat for a moment, watching Blair cross the dining room in angry strides. She struggled for composure, knowing that her anger would only cloud her judgment and make it more difficult for her to do her job. Two of her agents moved quietly from the room to follow Blair at a discrete distance. Cameron was confident that they would be ready should the President's daughter decide to leave the lodge.


Half an hour later, Cameron gathered her gear and stepped out into a glorious Colorado morning. The air was crisp, the sun a blazing white light that forced her to immediately pull on her ski goggles. She knew from communications that Blair was on the upper slopes, preparing to spend the morning on a long and challenging downhill trail. By the time Cameron reached the peak, Blair was pushing off for her second run down the mountainside. Cameron stepped into her traces, and started after her, staying just slightly behind Blair to give her plenty of room to maneuver over the slope. Cameron was content to follow, keeping her eyes on the woman ahead of her. She felt only a momentary flicker of surprise when a dark form hurdled from a stand of trees 20 feet away and headed directly for Blair Powell.

Fear was not an emotion that Cameron allowed herself. It merely slowed the reflexes, and clouded judgment. In the second it took her to reach for her gun, she saw Blair go down as the figure careened into her. For a brief instant Cameron was struck with a sense of deja vu that nearly made her dizzy. Her stomach clenched as panic threatened to engulf her. As quickly as the image of Janet falling, a blossom of red on her chest, glided into Cameron's mind like a familiar slide on a well- viewed screen, Cameron forced it away. The assailant had fallen from the force of his impact with Blair, and was struggling to rise in the snow.

Cam skidded to a stop at Blair's side, shedding her skis before she had even stopped moving. She threw herself over Blair's prone body, her gun trained on the figure not far away. With her other hand, she pulled her radio from her belt, screaming hoarsely, "Red alert, red alert!"

Even as she curled herself protectively around Blair's still form, four agents emerged from the trees on either side, guns drawn, shouting for the assailant to get down. Within seconds, they surrounded him. As soon as Cameron was certain that the immediate danger to Blair had passed, she switched radio frequencies to that of the communications center at the lodge, and requested urgent transport and a medivac unit to meet them on the slopes. She eased herself off Blair's body, holstering her gun and pulling off her gloves.

Blair lay on her back, eyes closed. Cameron quickly ascertained that her pulse with strong and steady, but she appeared to be unconscious. With hands that trembled only slightly, Cameron opened Blair's parka and slipped her hand inside, searching for evidence of a wound. It was entirely possible that the assailant had slipped a knife or ice pick into Blair's body during the collision. One part of her mind worked efficiently, by the book, while another part warred with the terror rising within.

Jesus, don't let her be hurt

Cameron slipped her hand under Blair's sweater, finding no evidence of blood. She slid her fingers over the tight abdomen and tried to check Blair's back without turning her.

"What are you doing," Blair whispered, her blue eyes unfocused.

Cameron look down, relief clearly evident in her face. "Just lie still. Everything is all right. You're safe."

"I've been wanting you to do this, but this wasn't exactly the place I had mind," Blair commented weakly, a smile flickering uncertainly across her face. She started to push herself up, and winced as a barrage of cannon fire began in the back of her head. She fell back limply. "What the hell happened?"

Cameron zipped up Blair's jacket and started to remove her own. She could see Blair was beginning to shiver. "I don't know yet," she said grimly. "How do you feel?" She spread her jacket over Blair's body.

Blair gingerly moved each arm and leg. Her vision was clearing, and other than a phenomenal headache, she seemed to be fine. "I'm all right."

"We'll have you off the ground in just a minute," Cameron said gently. She lifted her radio, and barked into it, "Where the hell is medivac?" Static was all she heard for a moment, and then Mac's voice.

"The helicopter was delayed because of cloud cover," he said. "We have an ambulance on its way and there should be snowmobiles on site in approximately two minutes."

Cameron didn't like it. It was sloppy work. They should have been informed that the helicopters were unavailable. Nevertheless, at the moment there was nothing she could do. "I copy that."

Blair reached for Cameron's arm, gripping her with surprising strength. "I don't want to go to a hospital. The media will be all over this. My father is in Southeast Asia, and there's no need for him to be disturbed."

Cameron had no intention of arguing with Blair. Even now, her team was taking the suspect downhill to the lodge. She would question him herself as soon as Blair was taken care of. She had to approach this as if it were an attempt on Blair's life. Because that was all she could assume it was. The time for respecting Blair's wishes was past. This was not something she could compromise about.

Blair watched Cameron's jaw tighten, and she knew there was no room for negotiation. "At least let me call him and tell him I'm all right, before this is all over the news."

Cameron nodded. "Of course."


Six hours later, Cameron nodded to the agent seated outside Blair Powell's hospital room and gently pushed the door open. She stood for a moment, trying to ascertain in the dim light if Blair were awake.

"Come in."

Cameron approached the bed, and stood looking down at Blair's pale face. "Did I wake you?"

"No. I was just lying here plotting my escape."

Cam laughed with just a hint of sarcasm. "Why is it that I believe you?"

A faint smile flickered across Blair's full lips. For an instant, her eyes sparkled with a youthful joy that had not been present for many years. "Perhaps because you're starting to learn my tricks."

Cameron edged the chair close to the side of the bed and sat, leaning forward so that Blair could see her. Softly she said, "I doubt very much that I will ever recognize all of your tricks."

"You might," Blair whispered, "if you gave me the chance to teach you."

It was Cameron's turn to smile. She chose to ignore the remark, instinctively sensing Blair's vulnerability, and recognizing that this was not a time for them to struggle. She stared at Blair's hand, lying motionless on the thin hospital-issue covers. She remembered the grace with which that same hand had moved across the sketch pad, capturing her own likeness with startling perceptiveness. No one since her mother had been able to portray her so accurately. Without meaning to, Cameron gently covered Blair's slender fingers with her own. She had meant to reassure her, and found herself reassured instead.

For a brief moment on the mountainside, she had thought that Blair was injured. Her choking fear was much more than just her concern for the person she guarded. She could not bear the thought of Blair being harmed, and she dared not examine too closely the reasons why.

Cameron cleared her throat, trying to ignore the sudden tingling in her fingers as Blair intertwined her fingers with Cam's. "Your assailant was a 16 your old boy who decided he was going to ski downhill through the trees from an adjoining trail. He wasn't even supposed to be there, but somehow no one was watching that particular part of the course. He had no idea who you were, and in fact I still don't think he does."

"So I'm safe for the moment?" Blair asked with just a hint of bitterness.

Cam nodded. "We've managed to keep this very low profile, and I don't think there's going to be much publication about it in the media."

Blair sighed gratefully. "Thank you. I want to get out of here this afternoon and go back to the lodge."

"Why does that not surprise me either?" Cam said with resignation. "I've taken the liberty of checking with your physicians, and they told me that if your headache is okay, they'd be willing to discharge you."

"Good. I feel like I'm in a fish bowl in here."

Cameron stood, resisting the urge to brush the errant strands of blond hair off Blair's cheek. "I'll see to the arrangements."

Cameron was almost to the door before Blair spoke. "Thank you for protecting me this afternoon," she said softly. She still felt the unexpected comfort of Cameron's embrace as she had lain in Cam's arms in the snow.

Cameron gripped the handle so hard her fingers ached. For a brief moment, she felt again the sheer terror she had experienced as she watched Blair fall. She could not afford to feel that for her. She could not afford to feel anything for her. In a tone harsher than she intended, she said sharply, "I was only doing in my job, Ms. Powell."

Then she was gone, and Blair was alone once more.

chapter fifteen

"How's your head?" Cam asked as she slipped into the seat next to Blair.

"I'll live," Blair responded, strangely subdued. In fact, the slightest vertical movement of the aircraft produced a wave of nausea that threatened to overpower her considerable self-control. Fortunately, the skies were clear and the jet streaked toward New York City with very little turbulence. Otherwise, she was very much afraid she would embarrass herself.

It didn't escape Cam's notice that Blair's face was chalk white, and her normally crystal clear blue eyes clouded with pain. Cam inclined her head closer, although the other agents and Diane were 10 rows further forward, engaged in conversation or napping. She and Blair were quite alone. Nevertheless, Cam did not want their private conversation overheard. "You don't have to be a hero, you know. Why don't you take a couple of pain pills and try to rest."

Blair started to shake her head, and abruptly stopped when the slight movement caused her stomach to lurch. "Believe me, Commander, I am no hero. The problem is, the pain pills tend to make me sicker than the pain."

Cam laughed softly as she shifted in her seat and pushed the center arm rest up out of the way. She laid her left arm along the backs of the seats and offered Blair her shoulder. "Just try to close your eyes for the rest of the flight. It's probably the only thing that will do any good. Believe me, I've been in your position more than once. The only way to get through it is pills or sleep."

Blair knew instinctively that Cam's offer of comfort was prompted by sympathy, and no special feelings for her. Nevertheless, what she needed at that moment was precisely what Cameron offered. Simple human comfort. She allowed her body to relax against Cam's side, and rested her head in the curve of Cam's arm. She knew she wouldn't sleep, but perhaps if she closed her eyes the pain would lessen.

Cam gently stretched her legs out in front of her and settled back into the seat. In only a minute or two, she knew from the rhythmic motion of Blair's breathing that she had settled into sleep. The faint background drone of the engines and the warmth of Blair's body along her side lulled her into a sense of peacefulness that she had long forgotten. She stared out the window, and thought of nothing. For those few precious hours, Blair's presence was all she needed. As she dozed, she rested her cheek on the fragrant softness of Blair's hair.


As the plane touched down, Cam and Blair awoke together. Neither of them moved. Cam's hand had drifted down from the seat and was curled gently along Blair's side, resting just beneath her breast. In her sleep, Blair had turned to thread her arm around Cam's waist. She lay with her head tucked beneath Cam's chin, resting in her arms. They held each other as if it had always been.

As the others in the cabin began to stand and stretch, Cam lifted her arm from around Blair's body, acutely aware of how much she did not want to let her go. "Ms. Powell, we need to depart."

With a sigh, Blair pushed herself upright and brushed her hands through her wild tresses. She noted with just a hint of surprise that her headache was gone. "Yes, of course we do."

She glanced at Cameron, startled to see a fleeting look that might have been regret cross her handsome face. Then, the professional impenetrable mask returned, and Cam simply smiled in agreement.

Cam left her then to move forward and speak to her people regarding the plans for transportation back to the townhouse. Diane worked her way down the aisle to Cam's vacant seat. "You two looked very cozy together," she remarked dryly.

"Leave it alone, Diane," Blair said quietly.

Diane bit back the retort she had been about to make. There was something in her old friend's voice that warned her off. In fact, they had looked very good together. Too good together. They looked as if they had held each other a thousand times before. Diane simply shook her head and left unspoken her words of caution. Something told her that Blair was beyond hearing.


Cameron sat her paper cup of coffee down on the worktable and glanced over at Mac with a quizzical lift of her eyebrow. "Is she still upstairs?"

"Yup, three days straight," Mac said with a shake of his head.

Cameron wasn't sure what to make of it, but she knew she didn't like it. Ever since they had touched down at JFK, Blair had not been herself. She had sent word that she intended to work in her studio, and would not require daily meetings with Cameron. Cam had not protested, feeling that to do so would be a further invasion of Blair's privacy. Nevertheless, the atmosphere in the command center resembled the calm before the storm. All of them expected Blair to burst forth from her isolation at any moment, and lead them once again on a merry chase. For her part, Cam almost wished she would. There was something unnerving about the sudden change in Blair's behavior.

Better the enemy I know, Cam muttered to herself. She picked up her coffee and headed to her small glass enclosed office. Mac looked after her, thinking that Blair Powell wasn't the only one who was not acting like themselves.

Things continued much the same for another week. The agents came and went, whiling away the hours of their shift reading, talking in hushed tones, and generally wondering when the bomb would drop. Cam spent as little time as possible within the confines of the command center. She jogged, she worked out, she read in her apartment. She left strict orders to be called the moment Blair gave any indication that she was preparing to leave the building. On the night of the eighth day, the call finally came.

"She just got into a cab and is headed downtown," Mac informed her.

"Shit," Cam cursed. "How did you let that happen?"

Mac's discomfort was nearly palpable, even over the phone. "There wasn't anything we could do short of physically stopping her. She just walked out of the building, stepped into the street, and flagged a checkered down. We were lucky to get the car out fast enough to follow her."

Cam sighed slightly in relief. "Then you have her in sight?"

"Roger that. Hold on a second--"

Cam paced the confines of her living room, the cellular phone gripped tightly in her hand. Although they had had no further contact from whoever had left the note outside Blair's door, she was worried that they weren't the only ones watching the President's daughter. Anytime Blair was without an escort, Cam was fearful for her safety.

"She just went into a bar on Houston," Mac informed her.

"Name and address?" Cam asked tersely.

"Rendezvous," Mac stated. After a second, he gave her the address as well.

"I'm on my way."

Less than 15 minutes later, Cam was in the bar, scanning the already crowded dance floor and surrounding tables for Blair. It was approaching midnight on a Saturday night, and the room was packed. The lighting was dim and the air thick with smoke, making it difficult for her to see across the room. She began threading her way through the crowd at the perimeter of the room, guessing that Blair would be in the shadows somewhere. Sure enough, she finally saw her talking to a young woman with impressive tattoos encircling both upper arms.

The woman with Blair was obviously a serious body builder, and her tight white tank top was clearly meant to display her hard-earned physique. She wore low-cut button fly jeans that showed off her muscular thighs to full advantage. At the moment, her hand was stroking the length of the Blair's bare arm, drawing closer to Blair's breast with each movement. Cam gritted her teeth, and tried to ignore the seduction in progress. She watched as Blair pressed closer to the other woman, remembering the moment when Blair had moved against her like that, claiming her insistently with a kiss. Cam's body immediately stirred to the memory, her clitoris hardening almost instantly.

Jesus Christ, what the hell is the matter with you? Cameron forced herself to ignore the throbbing in her belly. Nevertheless, she found herself averting her gaze when Blair cupped the woman's face in her hand and licked slowly along the edge of her jaw, finally thrusting her tongue between her lips. That was the moment when Cam finally admitted to herself that she couldn't do what she had come there to do. Anger surged through her as she spoke harshly into her collar microphone.

"I want the first team in here now to take over this surveillance." She abruptly turned her back as the two women began to kiss ferociously, their hands roaming over each other's bodies with abandon. As soon as she saw her people enter the bar, she pushed her way through the crowd and out onto the street. She crossed quickly to her car and radioed headquarters.

"Mac, I want you to take over for me for the next twelve hours. If there's an emergency, page me. Otherwise, I'm unavailable."

She didn't wait for his reply but drove directly to JFK airport. As she waited in a terminal for her flight, she dialed a familiar number in Washington D.C., and arranged for the only hope she had of driving Blair from her consciousness.

Continue on to Part 7

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