Radclyffe - Oath of Honor
there.”“You were where you needed to be, doing what needed to be
done.” Evyn squeezed her. “Just like now. You’re here when I really
need you.”
“I always will be,” Wes promised.
“You haven’t met my cat yet.”
Wes laughed and softly kissed her. “Then we should go.”
“Yeah.” Evyn pressed her face to Wes’s neck. “I want you, you
know. Today. Every day. Feels good. Really good.”
“I know. I’ll be here.”
Evyn sighed. “So let’s go home.”
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chapter thirty-fOur
Derrick Sullivan slipped into the parlor and signaled discreetly
to Russo.
Russo smiled at the bejeweled, pencil-thin blonde by his side,
grateful for the interruption. He only suffered her vacuous conversation
because her husband was one of his largest campaign donors. “Will you
excuse me, Mrs. Winthrop?”
She pouted slightly. “Only if you promise to return.”
“As soon as I possibly can—I want to hear more about those
famous racehorses of yours.”
She brightened and fluttered her thick lashes. “I can’t wait.”
Russo threaded his way through the tuxedoed and coiffed crowd
to where his aide waited just inside the door. “What is it, Derrick?”
“Sorry to disturb you, sir, but you’re needed in the study.”
“Dinner is being served in fifteen minutes.”
“Yes, sir. Shall I tell the caterers to delay?”
“No, go ahead. I’ll be there.”
“Yes, sir.”
Russo ignored his wife’s questioning glance as he hurried out and
down the hall to his study. He let himself in and closed the door behind
him. Hooker lounged on a leather sofa facing the fireplace, one leg
crossed over the other, his arms stretched out along the back. At least
he’d worn presentable clothing, but he looked haggard—his face drawn
and creased with fatigue.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” Russo said, “and I’ve got a houseful of
guests. What are you doing here?”
“A problem,” Hooker said. “I could use a drink.”
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Russo clenched his teeth but walked to the bar on the opposite side
of the room and splashed whiskey into a glass. He set it on a polished
mahogany table next to the sofa and made his way behind his desk.
“You have ten minutes.”
Hooker leaned over and picked up the drink. “The exchange was
made on schedule, as planned, but the DC contact was intercepted.”
“Arrested?” Russo asked, the hairs along the back of his neck
tingling at the surge of adrenaline.
“Detained, at the very least.”
“Can we trust him—”
“Her.”
Russo rubbed his eyes and fought down the wave of anger. “You
entrusted something of this magnitude to a woman?”
“Believe me, she’s qualified.”
“Apparently not that well qualified. What about the specimen?”
“Confiscated.”
“You’re telling me that all this time and money has been
wasted?”
Hooker’s mouth tightened. “I advised you against a plan this
complex. Too many ways for it to go sideways.”
“How did they find out?”
“I don’t know. It’s going to take me some time to get back
inside.”
Russo tightened his fist. “You need to see that none of this comes
back on us.”
Hooker smiled. “Already being done.”
“And how much is that going to cost me?”
“The same as my original fee.”
“The next time,” Russo said, making sure the threat was apparent
in his voice, “I’ll expect no mistakes.”
“Next time, maybe you’ll take my advice and use something more
straightforward and dependable.” Hooker tossed back his drink and
slapped the glass down on the expensive wood top with a sharp clink.
“Like a rifle.”
“I don’t like loose ends,” Russo said.
“Neither do I. There aren’t going to be any.”
Russo unlocked his bottom right-hand desk drawer and sorted
through the cash. He relocked the drawer, walked around the desk, and
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handed the money to Hooker. “Merry Christmas. I’ll have Derrick see
you out.”
v
Blair jumped to her feet as Cam strode into Lucinda’s office.
“You’re not hurt?”
“No.” Cam kissed her quickly. “We’re all okay. Evyn Daniels has
a flesh wound, but she should be fine.”
“And the virus?” Lucinda said, coming around to the front of her
desk. “Contained?”
“All but a certainty,” Cam said. “We’ve all been cultured, but the
lab reported the vial appeared to be intact. They say the likelihood of
infection is very low.”
“Good news, then,” Blair said.
Cam grimaced. “Not exactly.”
Lucinda straightened. “What?”
“I don’t suppose you have anything stronger than coffee?”
Lucinda smiled faintly and gestured to the two chairs in front of
her desk. “Both of you, go ahead and sit.” She walked back around to
the other side. “Scotch work for you?”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Blair?”
“No. Thanks.”
Cam settled into the chair and leaned her head back with a sigh.
Blair eased onto the arm and stroked Cam’s hair. “You’ve been at it for
hours. You need a break.”
“I’m okay.” Cam opened her eyes and smiled up at her. “How are
you doing?”
“Fine, now that you’re here. We only got a partial report from the
field, and when they said an agent had been wounded, I had a couple
of bad moments.”
“I’m sorry, I called as soon as I could, but—”
“I know. You can’t stop in the middle of what you’re doing to
check in with me.” Blair slid her arm around Cam’s shoulders and
leaned down to kiss her. “So I’m just going to have to worry once in a
while. I can handle it.”
Cam gripped her hand. “I’ll try not to make it too often.”
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“Deal.”
“Here you are.” Lucinda held out a short heavy glass filled with
an inch of amber liquid.
“Thanks.” Cam swallowed down half. “I don’t think there’s
anything quite as scary as fanatics. Practically impossible to interrogate.
They can’t be intimidated, and when they’re absolutely certain they’re
right—which is always—they’ll protect the rest of their bunch no
matter the consequences.”
“I take it the lieutenant isn’t talking?” Lucinda asked.
“Oh, she’s talking,” Cam said. “She’s adamant she had no idea
what was in the package, that she’d never met the man in the diner
before, and she only drew her weapon because she felt threatened by
Agent Daniels.”
Blair snorted. “You’re kidding me, right? We’re supposed to
believe that she thought Evyn was going to accost her? What about the
virus?”
“She insists she thought she was carrying a gift from her sister.
Unfortunately, the taped phone conversation from last night could be
construed as supporting that story.”
“Oh sure, right. How does she explain this guy passing her the
vial, then?”
“She claims she’s an unwitting victim in a scheme to spread the
virus in the White House. According to her, the real boyfriend is still en
route—and this guy hacked her e-mail to look for a cover story.”
“They’re smart,” Blair snarled. “While it’s a little outrageous, it
could be possible.”
Lucinda tapped her fingers on her desk. “What do we have for
leverage to force her to cooperate?”
“Right now? Not much—the lab tech, Angela Jones, disappeared
the same day the virus went missing. We’ve got her name and her
suspected association with Jennifer Pattee. We’ll work that. And we
have Pattee’s contact in custody.” Cam set the unfinished scotch on
Lucinda’s desk. “And there’s the other problem. He says he was hired
to make the delivery yesterday—that a friend of a friend called him and
offered him ten grand to meet a woman and pass her a package.”
“He’s claiming to know nothing of what was in the package?”
Lucinda asked.
“According to him,” Cam said, “he’s just a messenger.”
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Blair jumped up and paced a step, then spun back. “Are you
kidding me? What about the phone call to Pattee the night before?”
“Scripted for him. That and the conversation in the diner. He was
just playing a role.”
“And what did he think that was?” Blair said.
Cam shrugged. “He says he didn’t care—the money was good.”
Lucinda leaned back in her desk chair, frowning. “Who is he?”
“His name is Elliot Marsh—ID’d from his license. Appears to be
a legit ID.”
“Let me guess,” Lucinda said dryly. “He’s from Idaho.”
“Bingo.”
Blair pointed a finger at Cam. “You know it’s bigger than these
two. There has to be a conspiracy.”
Cam nodded. “I do know, and we’ll unravel it. But it’s going to
take time and likely mean we’ll be putting people undercover.”
“And in the meantime?” Blair asked. “What about Jennifer and
this guy Marsh?”
“Oh,” Cam said with a hard smile, “they’re not going anywhere.”
“We cannot allow this attack to go unanswered,” Lucinda said,
fixing her attention on Cam. “I want you to put together a task force
and find out who’s behind this. You’ll head it and report directly to
Averill.”
Cam glanced at Blair.
“Yes,” Blair said softly, taking Cam’s hand. “Yes. Whoever they
are, they have to be stopped.”
Cam squeezed her hand. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”
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chapter thirty-five
Evyn woke to the rasp of Ricochet’s tongue on her ear and the
deep rumble of his purr. She didn’t remember falling asleep.
She only vaguely remembered the ride home. But she remembered
the bright December sunlight and the fury in Jennifer Pattee’s eyes.
She remembered glimpsing her colleagues, her friends, closing in
as Jennifer’s hand dipped into the black leather bag slung over her
shoulder, and she remembered the threat of death that would have
followed a quick toss of a fragile vial filled with lethal virus into the
street. She remembered the glint of sunlight on metal. Saw the gun
come up. Pointed at her. She hadn’t thought, hadn’t needed to. Her
body moved, conditioned and trained a thousand times over for exactly
that moment.
Her mind clearer now, she knew her part in the greater picture
was a small one. She’d helped stop an attack on the president of the
United States. She’d done her job, the job she had wanted to do all her
life. Her part was over, but the war was just starting. There were more
like Jennifer and those who had conceived of the assault—at home
and abroad—those who called themselves patriots and translated their
fanaticism into violence. She’d keep doing her job, and the job would
be more demanding than it had ever been. She didn’t mind, she was
ready.Carefully, she turned onto her uninjured side, dislodging Ricochet
from his spot on her pillow. He stretched, gave her the insulted look
only a cat could muster, and stalked away.
Wes lay beside her, the strong planes and angles of her face
softened by sleep and the morning light. Evyn touched her bare shoulder.
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Warm. Warm, soft skin. Wes’s mouth curved into a small smile, making
her handsome face achingly vulnerable. Want and wonder stirred in
Evyn’s soul. She kissed her, just a light brush of lips, and Wes’s eyes
fluttered open. Clear spring green—innocent and vibrant and gloriously
beautiful.
“Sorry,” Evyn whispered.
“Not for the kiss, I hope.”
“It’s early. Go back to sleep.”
“Mmm. Merry Christmas.”
Evyn laughed. “Hell, it is!” She hugged Wes. “Merry Christmas. I
didn’t get you a present.”
“Yes you did. I got you.” Wes’s arm came around her and Wes
kissed her, her mouth possessive and seeking. Evyn kept her eyes open
as long as she could, until the tenderness and longing forced her to
surrender. She drew her leg up over the crest of Wes’s hip, pressing
nearer, molding to her. The brush of hot skin over her clitoris made her
shudder.
“Doesn’t seem right,” Evyn gasped, arching her neck for Wes to
feast, “that I get so much pleasure out of your present.”
Wes’s mouth skimmed over her cheek, along her jaw. “Be
careful—shoulder. Remember your shoulder.”
Evyn nipped at Wes’s neck. “We’ve managed with a banged-up
shoulder before.”
Wes chuckled. “I wonder what it will be like when both of us have
two good arms.”
“If it gets any better, I won’t survive,” Evyn muttered, rocking
her center along Wes’s thigh. Her breasts were tense, aching, and she
wanted to come. She needed it quick and hard, but she held on—wanting
to hang suspended in this agonizing splendor of need and want and love
for as long as she could. “God, I love you.”
Wes drew a sharp breath, her arm tightening on Evyn’s waist,
urging her to thrust faster. “I really love waking up with you. I love
how much you want me. You’re so sexy. Are you always like this in
the morning?”
“I don’t know.” Evyn’s vision wavered. “I don’t usually wake up
with anyone.” Evyn dug her fingers into Wes’s shoulder, anchoring
herself, pressing closer, needing every inch of her skin against Wes.
Wes. Everywhere, always, Wes. Her orgasm unfurled, escaping the
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Oath Of hOnOr
tethers of her control, and she kissed Wes hard. “I want to wake up with
you.” Her hips bucked and she buried her face in Wes’s neck. “You…
