'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
