Anticipation swelled in her chest, and the sick feeling in her stomach burned away. “We need something to trade.”

“Something?”

“We could threaten an offensive with mass casualties unless she is released.”

Graves steepled his hands in front of his chest and regarded his oldest child. When she’d been born, he’d been disappointed she hadn’t been a boy, but she’d turned out to be the best soldier of the three. They were all smart, all dedicated, but Jane had a killer’s heart. She didn’t shy away from the ultimate solution. “Such as?”

“Another biological agent—sarin, perhaps—or explosives targeting a high-density, high-profile objective—Wall Street, the Super Bowl, the Oscars.”

He nodded. “That might work, although the plan would take time to set up, and we may not have much time. She’ll be moved once they realize they’re not going to get any information from her. Right now, she’s in limbo. Once she’s in the system and more people know about her, the chance of a trade is less likely. After all, they profess not to negotiate with terrorists.”

“We know that’s not true,” Jane scoffed. “As long as the media doesn’t know, all kinds of bargains are possible.”

“Let’s assume our window of opportunity is a week, two or three at the outside. What else?”

“A one-to-one trade would only be possible if we had someone highly valuable as a bargaining chip,” Jane said, thinking as she spoke. She stared at her father. “But what if we had someone they’d have to trade for? Like Blair Powell?”

“Very possibly. Also very difficult. She’ll probably be as heavily guarded as the president now.” He smiled faintly. “But I think you might be onto something.”

“I’ll work on it. There has to be a way.”

“Good. In the meantime, we have a substantial arms deal in the works. I want you to take point on that.”

“Yes, sir,” Jane said briskly, a sense of purpose replacing the lingering despair. This was what she needed. To be back in the action, with a gun on her hip and a rifle on her shoulder. She’d spent eighteen months undercover in the lab, and she didn’t regret it. She’d been the one with the training to do it, but in her heart, she was a soldier. And now she had the most important mission of her life.


*


When Blair woke again it was almost eight a.m. She showered in the bathroom adjoining the guest room and pulled on yet more borrowed clothes. Dressed in a long-sleeved navy T-shirt, dark sweatpants, and thick wool socks, she padded silently through the living room over the gleaming wood floors to the kitchen in search of more coffee. Diane sat in an emerald-green robe at the table where Valerie had been a few hours earlier, sipping tea and scanning her iPad.

“Morning,” Blair said.

“Hi. I understand you took care of my girlfriend this morning.”

“Hardly taking care of her.” Blair poured a fresh cup of coffee and sat down across from Diane. “I just fed her a little bit.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Everything okay?”

Diane raised a shoulder and smiled wryly. “Who knows? She says so.”

“How about with you?”

Diane pushed the iPad aside and cradled her cup between her hands. She stared into the tea as if hoping leaves would appear in the bottom of the cup with a message. “I love her. I never expected anyone to touch me the way she does. Not just physically, which is amazing in itself, but…I look at her and I feel things I never knew I could. She makes me ache, she makes me want, and she scares me.”

“Yeah,” Blair said, “that sounds like love to me. Especially the scary part.”

“Well, we’re a pair, aren’t we?” Diane laughed softly. “How the hell did we end up with those two?”

Blair shook her head. “Beats me. I should’ve seduced you a long time ago.”

Diane smiled over the rim of her cup, her crystal blue eyes warming as she took Blair in. “Oh no, we would’ve killed each other by now.”

“Maybe. But I’m still glad I have you, hot monkey sex or not. Because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Diane grasped Blair’s hand and entwined their fingers. “Want to tell me what’s really going on?”

“I don’t know, and that’s what’s making this so damn hard. Cam’s not doing anything she hasn’t done before, but I just have a really bad feeling—like we’re being drawn into a very dangerous game and I can’t see the shape of it. I feel like I’m fighting an army of ghosts.”

“Maybe you should leave the fighting to Cam.”

“I wish I could. But I’m part of the army—I got drafted when my father decided the next step after the governor’s mansion was the White House. I love him, I really do. But his ambition has changed so many lives.”

“I think that’s part of the job description,” Diane said.

“I’m not talking about his role as president. I mean as a man with people who love him.”

“Would you change him, turn back time—if you could?”

Blair sighed. “No more than I would Cam. Never. I adore them both, but the cost to everyone…You know Luce is in love with him, right?”

“I’ve got eyes,” Diane said. “I’m surprised the media hasn’t been playing that tune for years.”

“They’re probably afraid to. Who wants Luce coming after them?”

“You’re right about that.” Diane ran the tie of her robe through her fingers, her expression pensive. “You know while he’s a sitting president, they’re not going to do anything about it. She’s far too valuable as his chief of staff. She’d be wasted as First Lady.”

“God, I didn’t really think about them getting married.” Blair’s heart gave a little turn. She loved Luce, had since she’d been a child, but after her mother’s death, it had been just her and her father against the world. But, to be fair, Luce had always been part of their struggles and triumphs. And she had Cam now. Her father deserved personal happiness too. “Luce as a stepmother. Oh my God.”

“Well, I don’t see Luce trying to be a mother figure. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“I don’t, but now I’m worried for her. If someone wanted to hurt my father, and they couldn’t actually get to him, Luce would be a likely target.”

“Just like you,” Diane said softly. “I’m sure Cam knows that. And your spookies. They won’t let anything happen to any of you.”

“I know, I know.” Blair drained her coffee. “Some days I just wish life was simple.”

“And if it was, you wouldn’t be who you are, and I don’t think you’d be happy.”

“Probably not, but I wouldn’t mind trying.” Blair gave Diane’s hand a squeeze. “For now, I just want Cam home safe.”


*


A loud bang brought Sky jerking upright, reaching to her hip where her gun should be before she even registered her surroundings. Her hand came away empty. The hard body beneath hers tensed, and a hand tightened on her waist. Sky’s heart thudded in her ears as she twisted around on Loren’s lap and scanned the room.

“It’s okay,” Loren murmured.

Thin gray light flooded through the open front door and a buxom brunette in tight blue jeans and a clinging pink angora sweater stormed through the bar. “Where is he?”

“Uh-oh,” Loren murmured. “Stay here.”

Loren eased Sky to one side and casually strolled into the brunette’s path, blocking the way to the hall at the back of the bar and the warren of rooms in the far rear. “Hi, Tricia. Things went really late last night and Ramsey decided to sleep here rather than wake you up at—”

“Oh, don’t feed me that bullshit,” the brunette snarled. Her dark eyes would have been beautiful if they weren’t filled with so much venom. Her mouth twisted into an angry line. She pulled a handgun from the front pocket of her leather jacket. “First I’m gonna blow the tits off of the bimbo he’s with, and then I’m going to nail him in the nuts.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Loren held up her hands. “Just take a minute here, Tricia. You don’t want to go waving that around.”

“You’re right,” Tricia snapped, pointing the gun squarely in the center of Loren’s chest. “I’m not going to wave it around, I’m going to aim and fire.”

Sky eased toward the woman, judging the distance between them, needing to get close enough to disarm her without endangering Loren.

Loren gave a tiny shake of her head and Sky paused, her muscles quivering with the strain of holding back.

“Look, Trish,” Loren said calmly. “Take a breath. I’ll go get Ramsey for you.”

“I’ll come with you. I want to see exactly who he’s got back there.”

“I’m telling you—”

Tricia waved the gun in a get-going motion. “No more talking. I want to see the snake for myself.”

“Okay, okay…we’ll find him.”

Sky watched the two of them disappear into the back and fought the urge to follow. She had to let Loren take control—Loren was the biker, after all, and she was just the old lady. The impotence of the role rankled. She was used to being the one in charge, the one in control. Now she was relegated to the status of a second-class citizen. God, she missed her gun.

Feigning indifference, she walked around behind the bar and poured herself a glass of orange juice from the refrigerator tucked underneath. The distant sound of shouts carried through the thin plywood walls, but when she didn’t hear a shot, she started to relax. She sipped the orange juice and watched the others begin to stir. Women sat up, their expressions dazed, their hair disheveled, and their makeup smeared. Men labored to their feet and shambled to the bar as if drawn by an invisible force.

“Pull me a beer, will you, baby,” a heavyset bearded guy with scraggly brown hair muttered as he leaned on the bar. He smelled like he’d slept in his clothes for a week.