Chapter Twenty-Seven

When Cam walked back into the house it was just after eight p.m., and Patrick Doyle was piling folders into a large battered briefcase, obviously preparing to leave. He glanced at her as she entered the living room.


"My team says that Egret's building is secure. I told her she could go home any time she's ready," he said casually.


"What part of the fact that you don't have any say in her security don't you understand, Doyle?" Cam said, for the first time not bothering to hide her irritation. She'd had a hell of an afternoon, and her recent exchange with Blair had left her nerves raw. "You don't have a say in where she goes or when she goes or how she gets there. You don't have anything at all to do with her movement or her security."


"Just trying to help you out," Doyle replied smoothly, feigning surprise. "Since you're down a man, I thought I'd give you a hand with her."


She moved a step closer to him, a dangerous glint in her dark eyes. "I don't need your help with her, Doyle. All I need is for you to keep me apprised of any intelligence regarding Loverboy. That's it. That's all. Is that too much for you to comprehend?"


Mac walked into the room just in time to hear Cam's last remark, and the edge in her voice surprised him. He had never seen her give even the slightest hint of losing control. Anyone who didn't know her probably wouldn't notice anything amiss now, but he saw that her hands were clenched tightly by her sides and there was something just a little dangerous in her eyes. Savard must have thought the same thing because she was watching both Doyle and the Commander carefully as she stepped cautiously nearer.


Doyle closed the clasp on his briefcase and reached for his suit jacket, which he had left lying over the back of a nearby chair. Almost as an afterthought, he added, "Everyone wants us to catch this guy." He paused and grinned at Cam, a taunting grin completely without humor. "But you know, it's hard to catch fish if they don't bite, and they almost never bite if there's nothing on the hook."


Cam moved so swiftly that Mac and Savard were completely taken off guard. She had her hands on Doyle's shirtfront before he had a chance to stop her. In the next instant, she had shoved him up against the wall, her fists twisted in the fabric of his shirt, pulling the collar tight across his throat. His usual ruddy complexion rapidly turned crimson.


When she spoke, her tone was low and lethal, but everyone in the room could hear her. "Blair Powell is not bait. She is not part of this, and she never will be. Don't suggest it; don't eventhink it. You don't go near her without clearance from me. You don't talk to her; you don't brief her; you don't so much as look at her."


Doyle's face was purple and he was gasping for air, but he outweighed Cam by seventy pounds, and he was a trained agent. He chopped down on her right forearm with both of his fists, and even if she hadn't been injured, he probably would have broken her grip. Her face went white as pain exploded through her arm, and she let go of him as she reflexively took a step backwards.


Doyle grabbed for her, but Savard caught his right arm and Mac stepped in front of Cam, effectively separating the two.


"You're out of control, Roberts," Doyle wheezed. "And we both know why, don't we?"


Cam tried to step around Mac to get at Doyle again, but she was having trouble staying on her feet. A wave of nausea followed fast behind the burning pain that streaked up her arm. She marshaled every ounce of strength she had and said very clearly, "Remember what I said. Stay away from her."


"Commander," Mac said calmly, "you appear to be bleeding. You should sit down."


"Come on, sir," Savard said quietly, wedging herself in front of Doyle and widening the distance between the two senior agents. "Everybody's on edge. Let's all cool off."


Doyle looked at her as if just now realizing that she was in the room. "Just remember whose side you're on, Agent Savard," he warned as he finally picked up his briefcase and headed toward the door. He glared at Cam, unconsciously rubbing his neck where the collar of his shirt had left a raw spot. "Your reputation won't protect you forever, Roberts. Heroes are quickly forgotten."


Cam didn't answer. She was having trouble getting enough air.


"Savard," Mac said urgently, his voice a harsh whisper. "Can you please get the Commander out of here and see to her arm?"


Savard glanced once more in her superior's direction, assuring herself that he really was leaving, and then turned toward the Secret Service agents. She gasped before she could stop herself when she saw the widening stain on Cameron Roberts' jacket. A rivulet of blood ran from under the end of her sleeve onto her hand and was in danger of dripping onto the floor.


"Right," she said, stepping quickly to Cam's side and putting one arm around her waist. "Come with me, Commander."


"I need to speak with Ms. Powell," Cam said, attempting to pull away. Her head was spinning and there were spots flickering across her visual field, but she could still think. And all she could think was that Doyle wanted to put Blair out there so Loverboy could have another try at her. She'd kill him for this. Her voice was oddly flat as she said, "She can't leave yet. I need Taylor's report. I want to see the FBI -- "


She stopped, dizzy and in real danger of vomiting. Savard tightened her grip as Cam swayed, and sent Mac a warning look.


"I'll see to that, Commander," Mac responded immediately. "Go on, Savard," he urged. He was afraid that Cam was about to pass out. He hated to see her in pain, and he knew that she'd be furious if any of the other agents saw her when she was physically compromised like this.


To his great relief, Cam let Savard lead her away. That crisis averted, he steeled himself for a meeting with Egret. Hopefully, she would not ask whyhe was briefing her instead of the Commander. He had never been very good at subterfuge.


*


Blair knocked softly, but she didn't wait for an answer. She pushed open the door to the bathroom in Cam's room and stepped into the small space. She'd heard the raised voices from behind the closed door of her room where she had been pacing and trying to calm down. Cam's revelation that Loverboy had been intentionally targeting her security detail had shaken her badly. It was more frightening than the threat to her own life. She felt responsible, and guilty, and trapped by circumstances and she wanted to pound something. It didn't help her mood in the least that all she could think of was Cameron Roberts declaring irritably that she loved her. Because those few words had rocked her more than anything else that had happened, andthat really scared her. Just when she thought she'd go stir crazy, Mac had come in, looking vaguely uneasy and asking her to please postpone any plans she might have for leaving until the Commander could speak with her. But he wouldn't tell her why Cam was unavailable, so she had come to see for herself.


Savard was kneeling on the floor in front of Cam, who was seated on the closed toilet, her shirt off and her head back, eyes closed. Her face was beaded with sweat and her skin looked gray in the harsh fluorescent light.


Blair's stomach tightened. God, she hated this. "What happened?" she asked sharply, moving around Savard to see what the FBI agent was doing. "Mac said she was indisposed."


Indisposed. That was a pretty word for this horror.


Savard held a gauze pad over a long, gaping laceration in Cam's forearm that was steadily oozing dark blood. The surrounding burn was blistered and weeping and her entire arm was swollen to twice its normal size. "She tore open a bit of the burn here. The bleeding's almost stopped."


Blair didn't need to see the discarded pile of soaked sponges to tell the wound had bled heavily. All she had to do was look at Cam. "She needs a hospital."


Cam opened her eyes and after a moment was able to focus on Blair's worried face. "I'm all right. Savard has it."


"Renee, either put her in a car and drive her, or I'll do it myself." Blair's hands were shaking and she knew her voice wasn't quite steady.


"Blair," Cam said softly, "if I check into a hospital I'm likely to be relieved, at least temporarily."


"I don't care," Blair stated more firmly as the initial shock of seeing Cam's injury began to wear off. "Mac is here. He can take care of things." She edged closer to Cam, stroking her fingers over Cam's forehead, brushing a damp lock of hair away from her eyes. "You're cold," she murmured, struggling with the fist of anxiety in her gut.


She looked around for something to cover her with, and finally focused on the fact that Cam was wearing only a thin sleeveless silk T-shirt. Her dress shirt was lying on the floor, rumpled and bloodstained. Blair's eyes narrowed as she regarded Savard leaning between Cam's outstretched legs, but she decided she probably didn't have to kill her just then.


"There's a blanket at the foot of the bed," Savard remarked without looking up, as she started to apply a topical antibiotic burn ointment to Cam's arm.


Blair was gone for a few seconds and when she returned, Cam was sitting up a little straighter, obviously working hard to hide her discomfort.