Blairs stomach tightened. "She was shot?"


"In the thigh. Thats not the whole story though."


"What is?"


Her caller hesitated. Even friendship had its limits. "Roberts has a sterling reputation, Blair."


"I dont intend to sully it," Blair snapped.


"There are rumors - not many, and no one will commit to knowing anything for sure. Shes well-liked by her colleagues-"


"Allright! I get your point. You dont want to tell me, but you will. Because if you dont Ill make sure youre never an Assistant Director."


"Blair!"


"Im kidding, and you should know that, if you dont after all these years. Tell me who she is, AJ. Shes got control over my life!"


"Deep sources say the narcotics dick who was killed was her lover."


"Christ!" Blair breathed.


"That may explain the change in assignments. A thing like that can ruin you for field work."


Blair pictured the clear-eyed, focused woman who had tracked her down at the bar with seeming ease two nights before. None of the other agents had been able to find her once she'd slipped into the shadows. Or at least none had ever dared to.


"I dont think shes ruined for anything, AJ. Shes ice."


"That would fit."


"What do you mean?"


"Theres one other rumor, buried so deep Im not even sure its her theyre talking about."


Blair sat on the edge of the stool at her breakfast bar, her coffee forgotten. "What is it?"


"Youve heard of the very hush hush escort service that operates on the hill?"


"You mean the one that provides all kinds of companions- boys, girls, either or both - for senators, dignitaries, and supposedly my father?"


"I dont know a thing about your father!"


"It doesnt matter one way or the other to me. He leaves me alone, thats all I care about. Whats this got to do with Roberts? Is she trying to shut it down?"


"Might be shes using it."


Blair caught her breath, then laughed derisively. "Your sources havent seen Cameron Roberts. Believe me, she doesnot have to pay for sex!!"


"Maybe she wants to."


"Come again?"


"No strings - no attachment - nothing to lose."


"I forgot youre a psychologist," Blair commented dryly. She finally sipped her coffee. "So what youre telling me is that my new keeper has no weaknesses I might exploit to make a little breathing room for myself, huh?"


"None that I could find."


Blair gently replaced the receiver, her annoyance warring with her curiosity. Every one had a secret, and everyone had a weakness - even her. She had just been lucky enough to keep hers hidden all her life. So apparently had Cameron Roberts.


**********


At precisely eleven a.m. a knock sounded at the door. Blair answered, knowing whom it was.


"Always punctual, Agent Roberts?" she queried as she turned away, leaving Cam to follow her into the loft. As she walked she caught her wild blond hair back with a headband fashioned from a black bandana. She pushed sweats and other gear into a nondescript gym bag, ignoring Cam as she packed.


"I thought we might go over the plans for the trip to DC, and New Years Eve," Cam suggested, leaning against the back of the couch.


"Whats to review," Blair said dismissively. "Youll escort me to the airport, another hired guard will pick me up at National and deposit me at the White House, where I will play dutiful daughter, pose for a few photos, and celebrate surviving another year." She glanced at Cam with a shrug. "Ill tell you when - you be here."


"I would like to have the itinerary in advance so I can brief my team. Shall we plan on departure at 3pm Wednesday?"


Blair finally faced her fully. "I am in the habit of setting my own schedule."


"Thats why Im here," Cam replied evenly.


"Do you spar, Agent Roberts?" Blair asked suddenly.


"As in hand to hand combat?"


"As in karate?"


Cam hesitated momentarily, at a loss as to where they were headed. Blair Powell did not make casual conversation. "Not exactly. I dont point spar - Im a mat stylist. I -"


"Then lets talk about the travel arrangements after we work out. I was just leaving for the gym. You can use some of my gear."


Cam stared at her. This was not a good idea. She was paid to protect her, not socialize with her. She didnt care how it might look to others, but she was worried about maintaining a professional distance. Blair was hard enough to handle without adding the confusion of any sort of personal relationship.


Stalling she said, "If youre going out I need to alert my people---"


Blair grabbed her bag, brushing past Cam. "Im outta here. You coming or not?"


Cam had no choice. She either went with her or allowed her to leave the building alone and hope one of her agents picked her up before Blair lost them in the crowds on the street. She hurried after her, activating her radio as she went.


"Mac, you there?" she whispered urgently.


"Yeah, boss," Mac answered immediately.


"Egret is flying - get someone downstairs in a car-"


"Roger that - you keeping her company?"


"Affirmative, but I want backup, and make sure everyone is mobile." She shouldered into the elevator just as the doors began to slide closed. Blair leaned against the rear wall watching her with an amused expression on her face. Cam clicked off the radio, clipped it back on her belt and stared at her. She was more annoyed than angry, but she kept her expression neutral.


"You dont like it, do you?" Blair stated.


"Like what?" Cam asked evenly.


"Not being in control- not knowing whats going to happen one moment to the next."


"If were speaking about my work, youre right. Its my job to be in the know - to have control of the situation. Thats what Im paid to do."


Blair studied her, unable to read anything in her smooth even features or her calm modulated tones. The elevator doors opened into the foyer and she saw two agents waiting near the door. She shook her head impatiently.


"Tell them to leave us alone," she said unexpectedly. There was a hint of something desperate in her voice.


"The gym on Seventh Ave?" Cam responded.


"Yes."


Cam spoke into her radio. "Were walking to Soho. Follow us in the car."


Cam and Blair stepped out into a brisk clear morning as the two men moved past them into the car that sat idling at the curb. It slowly drifted through traffic behind them as they turned south toward the gym.


Blair glanced at Cam who walked beside her, constantly scanning the street ahead of them and the cars that passed along side.


"Are you really serious about protecting me?" she asked.


"Of course."


"Why?"


"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?