exchange of very authentic counterfeit money for a huge cache of drugs was to take place. Janet had already been on site when the assault began. The sting operation had gone bad almost from the beginning. A lookout no one anticipated had seen the armored cars approaching and radioed the Colombians in the building where the buy was going down. The men inside had been heavily armed and prepared to defend themselves. Shots had begun as soon as the battering rams cracked the wide double doors. Janet had been directly in the line of fire. Cam had gone inside right behind the first wave of commandos. The air had been heavy with the smell of cordite and thick with the sound of screaming. Orders, curses, cries of agony. Janet had taken one of the first bullets and was down before Cam shouldered her way past the splintered remains of the reinforced doors. By the time she reached her, Janet was almost gone. Cam would never be certain how to interpret the look in her eyes those last few seconds. She couldn't help thinking that it was an accusation.
If it had been, she deserved it.
She ran into the park, sweat pouring from her face, oblivious to the cramps beginning in her thighs or the faint ache behind her eyes. She should have known. She should have protected her.
At 0700 Sunday morning, Cam waited in the lobby of Blair's apartment building along with Stark and Savard. She had sent Mac on ahead to supervise the last minute details in Prospect Park and to advise the commanders of the municipal security teams that she wanted to meet with them personally before the start of the race. The New York City Transit Police would have squadrons of officers in the subway system, the New York Police Department would provide security along the race route, and the mayor's detail would be on the speaker's platform where he, Blair, and others would speak at the completion of the race. It was standard operating procedure for the Secret Service to coordinate all the security forces whenever any member of the First Family or the Vice President's family was making a public appearance. She was running through the details in her mind when the elevator door opened and Blair walked out.
Blair was dressed for the run almost identically to Cam - a light nylon windbreaker over a T-shirt, running shorts and shoes. She had caught her hair back at the base of her neck as she usually did for public outings, substituting a length of dark ribbon for the customary gold clasp. Her light make-up was superfluous on a face made for the camera. Even her attitude was different - she walked quickly, purposefully, with barely a glance at her surroundings. She too had a job to accomplish, one she had been performing in her mother's absence for over fifteen years. She was the reigning queen of her father's dynasty and often accompanied him to State affairs or represented him when the social circumstances required it. Today she was appearing as the President's daughter, and although not a role that was always comfortable for her, it was one she knew well.
She hesitated briefly when she saw Cam. They smiled at each other, forgetting for a moment that there was anyone else in the room. It was one of those automatic responses that neither of them could prevent, that brief surge of pleasurable recognition that was beyond volition or better judgment.
In an instant, their smiles disappeared and they greeted one another formally.
'Good morning, Ms. Powell,' Cam said as she turned and began walking beside her, Stark and Savard falling in on either side.
Blair nodded quickly and continued toward the front door without breaking stride again. Per routine, Stark held the door open and Cam went through just slightly ahead and to the right of Blair. Cam hesitated fleetingly at the sidewalk as she looked up and down the street and then across the park, just as she had the day the shot was fired. It was so subtle that no one except another agent would have noticed. No one else except Blair.
Blair was always acutely aware of the way Cam positioned herself between Blair and any potential threat, even when they just walked down the sidewalk together. In this particular location, she would never lose that instant of stomach-churning fear.
Cam sensed Blair stiffen beside her and murmured in a voice too low for anyone else to hear, 'It's just procedure. Try to ignore it.'
'I'd like to be able to,' Blair said just as softly as they crossed the sidewalk toward the black limousine. It would be so much simpler if she could. 'But I can't.'
Cam stood by the door as Blair slid into the back seat, then followed her in while Stark and Savard proceeded to the car idling just in front of theirs.
As they pulled away, Blair said coolly, 'I'll be meeting some people when we get there.'
Cam regarded her carefully, slightly surprised that she was volunteering information, while at the same time mildly annoyed that she hadn't told them sooner. Blair wasn't required to tell them everything, of course, but it was always helpful to have as much advance data as possible. However, she was grateful for this small improvement in communication. 'Will they be joining you for the run?' Cam asked.
Blair nodded, watching out the tinted windows of the limousine as the city slid by. 'Yes. I've invited Diane and another friend.'
Cam didn't ask for the details. She wondered, however, if she would be spending another day watching the admittedly attractive Dr. Coleman pursue Blair.
You put yourself in this position, and you knew what it would mean, she reminded herself. But she couldn't help but think that she hadn't come close to imagining how difficult it would be. She also hadn't expected it to be so complicated for the two of them to talk. The lack of privacy didn't help, but it was more than that. She had to admit that part of it was pride, and some of it was pain, and a great deal of it was a lifetime of defenses, on both sides, standing between them now.
Cam tried to put her personal feelings aside until the day's work was done. 'Savard, Stark, and I will be with you along the route.'
Blair turned her attention from the window to study Cam. It was a face she never seemed to tire of looking at. Seeing her made something inside her pulse, swift and sharp and hot -- it was part desire and part longing and, so unexpectedly, part tenderness. It defied explanation, but in spite of everything, she welcomed the sensation. 'Special Agent Savard is quite the beauty,' Blair observed dryly.
Cam raised an eyebrow but decided comment was probably not required. Renee Savard was indeed an attractive woman, now that she considered it. She hadn't thought about it earlier, in fact, she hadn't paid much attention to her other than to consider what to do with her. Savard was an agent under her command by circumstance, but under her command nonetheless, and that was the only way she thought of her. When she noted
