“God, no,” Blair said with barely suppressed horror. “I’ve got all the protection I need. Just tell the pilot he may have to wait.”

“All right then. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Blair ended the call and handed the phone back to Paula. “We’re leaving.”

“I’ll let the teams know,” Paula said.

“I’ll call Tanner and arrange for drivers.” Cam hesitated, casting a questioning look in Stark’s direction. “If that’s all right with you.”

“It’s fine. Thanks,” Stark answered on her way out the back door.

Cam set her tea aside and slid her arms around Blair’s waist. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know.” Blair kissed the tip of Cam’s chin. “But Lucinda wants to talk.”

“Uh-oh.”

Blair sighed. “I know.” She rocked her hips lightly against Cam’s. “Have you heard anything from Stewart?”

Cam shook her head. Assistant Director Stewart Carlisle was her immediate superior in the Department of the Treasury, but since she’d most recently been on special assignment reporting directly to the president, she hadn’t been under Stewart’s command for some time. “I don’t actually know who I’m reporting to anymore.” She glanced through the back door to the guest house visible partway down the slope to the beach. Blair’s security team was there. The nerve center of all that went into protecting Blair was there. And she wasn’t. “Especially since I’m not on your security team anymore.”

Blair leaned back, hooking her thumbs in the loops of Cam’s jeans. “It bothers you, doesn’t it. That Stark is in charge now.”

“Stark’s a good agent.”

Blair laughed. “Cameron. Don’t even try.”

Cam forced herself to unclench her jaw. “Yes, it bothers me. I didn’t want to be switched from investigation to protection when they first assigned me to your team last year. But you know what?” She kissed Blair lightly. “I’m good at it. And I’m motivated. I like…” She shrugged. “…looking after you.”

“Oh, darling,” Blair murmured. “You do look after me. In all the ways that mean the most to me. You love me, and that’s what I really need. I don’t need you throwing yourself in front of me if some crazy person decides they don’t like the color of my dress.”

“I know that’s not what you need.” Cam ran a hand through her hair. “But it’s kind of what I need.”

“I know.” Blair hugged her tightly. It was rare that she could touch Cam without being aroused, for which she was pleased and grateful. She hoped that never changed. She couldn’t imagine not wanting her. Just at the moment, though, she wanted to comfort her because it was so unusual for Cam to be unsure about anything. And she could sense Cam’s unease and uncertainty. “We all need time to get adjusted to the changes, Cam. But I’m always going to need you.”

Cam smiled and rested her forehead against Blair’s. “And I’m always going to need you.”

Paula hurried down the twisting path to the guesthouse. Under other circumstances she would have taken a second to appreciate the unseasonably warm early October morning, but her mind was totally consumed with the myriad details of her job. She felt the full weight of her new responsibilities intensely, but beneath the low-level hum of nerves, she was also aware of the surge of excitement that always accompanied any operation when Egret, as Blair was officially called, was on the move.

“Listen up,” she said as she pushed through the front door into the living room. “Egret is flying.” She shed the windbreaker she’d grabbed earlier on her way down to the beach and rolled up the sleeves of her white button-down collar shirt. She headed straight for the dining room where they’d set up their computers and communication equipment. “I’m going to call DC to arrange ground transport.”

Felicia Davis, a statuesque African-American with features that suggested she might be descended from an ancient Egyptian queen, sat in a rattan chair sipping coffee. “Shall I arrange accommodations?”

“Yes. The usual hotel. At least for a night until the commander— until I determine Egret’s immediate schedule.”

Pushing numbers on her cell phone, Felicia rose and walked to the French doors leading to a wide deck with a view of the beach.

“What about me?” Renée Savard reclined on a sofa with her left leg propped up on an overstuffed hassock. A blue fabric knee immobilizer with wide white Velcro straps was wrapped around her knee. “Can I tag along?”

Paula held up one finger as she spoke into the phone and simultaneously entered information into the computer. A minute passed, then she disconnected and returned to the living room to sit next to Renée. She skimmed her fingers through her lover’s shoulder length golden-brown hair. “How’s your leg?”

“Other than the fact that it feels as heavy as a tree trunk, and about as functional, it’s fine,” Renée said edgily. Her blue eyes narrowed. “It would feel a hell of a lot better without this immobilizer.”

“Just for a few more days.”

Renée waved her away. “Go take care of what you have to take care of. How soon are you leaving?”

“ASAP.”

“Well then, don’t waste time asking me about my stupid leg.”

Paula kept her expression neutral. She knew Renée’s leg hurt, and she knew that her bad temper was more than pain. “Do you want to hang out here while we’re gone? I can get Tanner to arrange a private car to take you back to Manhattan if you don’t.”

Tanner Whitley, heir to the Whitley corporate dynasty and the owner of Whitley Island, was one of Blair’s oldest friends from prep school. She also had one of the best private security forces in the country. Her crew had been providing perimeter protection during Blair’s stay, ensuring that no one approached the house from the main road that bisected the island. Stark trusted Tanner completely.

“I don’t want to go back to Manhattan.” Renée sounded uncharacteristically petulant. “Not when I can’t work. Not when you’re not there.” She leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “Jesus, listen to me. I’m pathetic. I’m sure you don’t want me underfoot while you’re working.”

“I don’t know how long we’ll be in DC, or where we’ll be going after that,” Paula said. “But—”

“Just go, Paula. I’ll call Tanner later and arrange my own—”

“But,” Paula continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted, “if it turns out we’re not staying in DC, it’s just as easy for you to head back to Manhattan from there as from here. Come with us.”

A crooked smile broke the smooth caramel plains of Renée’s cheeks. “Sometimes I wish you weren’t so sweet when I’m being cranky. It makes me feel guilty, which just makes me crankier.”

“I’d be cranky too,” Paula whispered. “I’m sorry it’s so hard for you right now.”

Renée’s eyes filled with tears and she looked away. “Jesus. I need to do something. If I sit around much longer, I’m going to really be crazy.”

“Officially you’re still part of the commander’s team, even though you’re on sick leave,” Paula said with conviction. “So, you’re coming with us. You need help packing?”

Renée grabbed the crutches that leaned against the sofa next to her. “No. I can manage. You go take care of things, Chief.”

“Yeah, okay,” Paula said, unable to keep her face from flushing. Chief. It sounded good.

Blair left her suitcases by the front door and walked outside to take a last look at the ocean. She wasn’t sure when she’d be able to come back to the island and she already missed it. The solitude was good for her art. She’d been able to paint here, despite everything that had happened to her and the rest of the world. She had asked Tanner to investigate the possibility of her purchasing the house; the current owners only used it as a rental property. The location was perfect— isolated, easy to defend, and close to Tanner, whom she missed and never managed to visit enough. It was also near enough to Manhattan that Diane Bleeker, her art agent and best friend, could easily visit.

She sat down on the top step of the rear deck and punched in a number on the disposable cell phone Cam insisted she use. She was half surprised when the call was answered.

“Hi, where are you?”

“Still in Manhattan,” Diane replied. “How about you?”

“About to head south.” There was no reason to think that her calls were being monitored, but after the constant admonishments of her various security teams, Blair had reluctantly accepted the necessity of caution. She avoided mentioning the specifics of her travel plans in phone conversations. Diane was used to filling in the blanks.

“Ah,” Diane said, “back to the real world.”

“Yes. Do you have the gallery open?”

“I’ve postponed the next show at the artist’s request. He didn’t think it was the best time, and I tend to agree with him. It will take a while until it’s business as usual back here.”

“So are you going to take a trip?” Blair asked lightly, although she waited for the answer with a sense of misgiving. Diane had recently become romantically involved with a CIA agent who had disappeared under mysterious circumstances, and Blair worried that Diane was somehow going to try to find her. In all the years they’d known one another, Blair had never seen Diane truly in love before. Now that Diane had fallen hard, only to be left just as abruptly, she was suffering. It pained Blair to know that her friend was hurting.

“I haven’t decided yet. I’m waiting for…inspiration.”

She’s waiting for Valerie to contact her, Blair mentally translated. “Well if that occurs, you’ll be sure to let me know.”

A beat of silence ensued. “Of course.”

“I mean it.”

“How about that other matter we were discussing?” Diane said, overtly changing the subject. “The celebration I’m going to be planning.”

Blair smiled, thinking about the wedding. Her wedding. Hers and Cam’s. Something she’d never anticipated wanting. A commitment to one woman for life. A formal commitment, a statement to the world. The idea had once seemed intimidating. But now, when the world had proved itself to be untrustworthy, capable of shifting dangerously at any moment, now more than ever she wanted that commitment. “I’m going to discuss that later on today. I’ll get back to you with a timetable.”